


Kyra has her Ways (but yours are Faster)

by MelodramaticMrTails



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Explicit Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-03-25 18:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 75,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticMrTails/pseuds/MelodramaticMrTails
Summary: In order to bring Kyrat back to it's former glory, Sabal and Amita both know they need Ajay on their side. Fortunately, Sabal has found something out that's going to give him the advantage he needs and he's already proven he will make great sacrifices for his country. This time all he needs to give up in his hetrosexuality.





	1. Incursion

It's been several days since Sabal had so heroically rescued Mohan’s son from Pagan Min’s terrible company and it certainly was not taken for naught. So far, Ajay has pulled more weight around here than Sabal could say even for himself. He's taken out an irritating den of wolves, scaled a dangerous bell tower, rescued hostages, taken an outpost and risked his life to pull Bhadra from a burning building.

Sabal asked Kyra for something, anything, to help them in their struggle and she delivered louder and more prominent than she ever has before. Ajay is determined and skilled. Though quiet, almost unassuming, he has eyes that understand long before his mouth does. Sabal can respect a man that chooses his words carefully.

For the first time in a long time, things look like they're going to go well for the Golden Path. Sabal just needs to make sure Amita keeps her nasty little claws out of Ajay and everything will be fine. That shouldn't be a problem, she's already vocalized her dislike for him and she certainly doesn't have enough respect for Mohan to respect his son. Nor enough respect for Kyra to see that she has given them a gift for that matter. If he knows her, though, she'll realise quickly that Ajay is an asset and waste no time trying to drag him into her blasphemous plans.

Sabal isn't sure where Ajay is now but he seems to return to Banapur in the evenings and nights. He also doesn't sleep much, though, a couple hours if anyone catches him sleeping at all. So far, though, Ajay doesn't seem bothered. He's actually adjusted very well even if the extent of that is more along the lines of not being around people and killing things. Sometimes it feels that's all there is in Kyrat anymore.

Food isn't served every day mostly because they don't always have food every day but when they do, the older women of Banapur love feeding everyone. Today, they're especially interested in feeding Ajay. He's yet to show up for a meal either because he probably doesn't know or doesn't think he should. Sabal isn't fully sure what he's been eating- if he's been eating.

People are just beginning to eat when he hears Amita’s voice.

“Ajay, just in time,” she says. Sabal looks back, a little annoyed she's spotted him first. Ajay examines his surroundings, curious and open, before spotting Sabal. Sabal offers him a soft smile and nod and Ajay looks back to Amita. “Are you hungry?”

“Oh,” Ajay replies as if he's forgotten somehow. “Yeah, actually.” He seems hyper aware but Sabal doesn't think there's a time when he's not. Every noise, every move, it rarely goes unnoticed by Ajay. He's not skittish or nervous, just hyper vigilant. Amita hands him a dish and it takes him a moment to accept it, thinking and scrutinizing- not the food, Sabal thinks. “Thanks.”

“Ajay,” Sabal calls to him. He's not going to give Amita the chance to sit down and have a little talk with him. “Come join me, brother. I'm glad you made it.” Ajay looks at Amita questioningly who, of course, is less than interested in being around Sabal much less eating near him. She doesn't make her distaste for him unknown but since Ajay has arrived, she's stifled it more than usual. After all, she knows better than to scare off an asset before she knows what it does.

“Are you going to join us?” Ajay asks.

“Perhaps later,” Amita replies pleasantly enough. She has no plans of this. “I'm going to finish helping the ladies.” As is a woman's work to make sure everyone is fed. Amita certainly doesn't cook. Ajay comes to sit near Sabal and again, he's looking around at everyone else, considering something. He looks tired today, perhaps having returned only to nap before finding something else to get done.

“Are you alright, Ajay?” Sabal asks and Ajay focuses on him instead.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “Sorry, my mother never really taught me a lot about her culture. Our culture?” Sabal understands now. It's cute.

“Did you wash your hands?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Ajay agrees. He's not wearing his gloves for once, perhaps for this reason exactly. He seems to be a very clean man, anyways. Even with his clothes beginning to grow dingy with wear and his hair a mess, the way he holds himself and how he acts is sterile almost. He never seems to touch anything too long like leaving behind a handprint is inexcusable, he doesn't touch other people if he can manage it, and yes, he's cleaner than most people around here too busy to care about a couple days worth of dirt.

“Just follow me,” Sabal assures. He begins to eat and sure enough, Ajay's sharp eyes follow. Each pluck of the fingers, every roll, every twist of his wrist and placement of his finger tips, Ajay watches- perhaps a little more intensely than really necessary. He wants to learn and he wants to do it right and Sabal truly can't complain about that. Still, he gives Ajay an amused look and all at once, Ajay's focused face gives way to something more nervous and embarrassed.

“Relax,” Sabal says gently. “It's okay. No one here is going to judge you for some simple mistakes, brother.” The way things have been going lately, most people are too busy or too tired to notice anything beyond their own faces anyways.

“Right,” Ajay replies with a quiet exhale. He begins eating as well and judging by how he works, he's done this before. Perhaps in another place with similar customs or maybe he just doesn't remember. He was so young when his mother took him away from this place.

Ajay eats slow but like he's starving. If not for his politeness and worry of offending someone, Sabal thinks he'd shovel food into his mouth with a spatula. There's not much time for words between his bites but it's not like he says much anyways.

“I guess you were hungry,” Sabal comments. “What have you been eating these past couple days?” Ajay pauses briefly, swallows what's in his mouth, and runs his tongue over his teeth. Even the clean water here leaves something to be desired now a days, everything made with it leaving a film across one's mouth. Sabal pours him a glass of beer and without needing to be told, Ajay returns the favor.

“I've made do,” Ajay assures. There isn't much to scavenge in Kyrat except flowers that grow more like weeds and whatever isn't picked clean from dead bodies. That being said, Ajay has been bringing back a lot of furs, Sabal can only hope he hasn't been eating too much of their meat. Mercury poisoning is slow and painful.

“You're a very talented man, brother,” Sabal says, offering him a grin. Ajay quickly looks down to his bowl before apparently trying to wash down the thick curry with a copious drink of beer. He, surprisingly, manages _that_ without hacking up the rest of his curry. Sabal pours him some more. “You've done so much in such little time, it's very impressive. Climbing bell towers, clearing outposts, hunting dangerous beasts- running into burning houses.”

Ajay looks back to Amita and Bhadra, awkwardly looking for something to do that Amita inevitably won't let her do. He sighs a little, more pleasant and airy this time, and the slightest pull of his lips brings a smile.

“I was in the army, actually,” Ajay explains. “For seven long years until pretty recently.”

“Ah,” Sabal replies. “I suppose no matter where you go you find something worth fighting for.” By the way Ajay's small smile falls, this wasn't exactly a compliment. He moves on. “So for you this is all just-” and as Sabal is going to say ‘everyday’, Ajay speaks over his slightly too long pause.

“Easy,” he says. Sabal looks at him as Ajay continues to eat like nothing has happened. Easy, he says. _Easy_. Potentially falling to his death on rickety old towers with heavy bells ready to descent back to where they came from is easy? Being attacked by starving, vicious animals with no sense of fear and drive for survival that rivals even the Golden Path is easy? Taking on paid mercenaries with bigger guns, better equipment, better _training_ is easy? Killing is easy?

There is something about Ajay that scares Sabal.

Ajay looks back at him when he doesn't say anything, not one for words himself but obviously knowing Sabal is. Sabal isn't fully sure what to say to this for once. He is, indeed, Mohan's son, for that Sabal is certain.

“Well,” he says just to say anything at all. “Easy or not, try not to burn yourself out, brother. There's a lot of work ahead of us and we'll need your help if we're going to get a foothold in this war.” Ajay seems disappointed almost, like he was expecting something else. Sabal doesn't know what. “We'll do everything we can to help you find Lakshmana.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Ajay says quietly. He finishes his food in record time. “Sabal-”

“It's alright,” Sabal assures. “You should go get some sleep. More than a couple hours preferably.” Ajay looks away sheepishly. “If there's anything you need, you need only ask.” The way Ajay looks at him makes Sabal think he has something in mind. Instead, Ajay turns away again, concern tweaked into his brows, and gets to his feet.

“I'll do that,” he promises. Sabal wonders what he wants. A woman for his bed perhaps? Or perhaps something less straightforward. He watches as Ajay leaves, stopping to speak with Amita one last time, and Sabal can't help but think how clean he is again. Like he doesn't want to touch anything too long. Like there's blood on his hands at all times. The gloves can't stop that.

Sabal hears Kyrat changes people. He wouldn't know. War does, though.

\- x -

Sabal hates to say it. He really, truly hates to say it.

Ajay is helping them _too_ fast.

The Golden Path only has so many members and with the rate that Ajay is clearing places of the Royal Army, they just don't have the people and resources to properly take those places back so quickly. They were stretched thin before and now suddenly they're trying to hold down a lot more places with a lot fewer people. Ajay has saved hostages from several places, people who turn to the Golden Path now that their lives have been yanked away from them, but it's not enough.

What is he supposed to do? Sabal doesn't want to tell Ajay to stop, they need this, but he's not sure Ajay _knows_ how to slow down. He'll come into Banapur, sell and buy, sleep for a couple hours, then be off again without so much as wavering- sometimes without saying a word, either. Kyra seems to have answered all his unanswered prayers all at once.

If it were just a matter of losing an outpost again, of the Royal Army retaking a farm or shrine, that would be fine. They've lost many outposts before. The problem arises when people are dying trying to hold their ground. Ajay helps, he'll rush to an outpost to help defend it when called, but even he can't prevent the casualties involved. They need more people and for once, that's not really something Ajay can help with.

The Golden Path needs a better way to recruit and train people. While Amita agrees with him on this, they don't exactly agree on the best way to go about it. Amita thinks they can just force people into the Golden Army with threats and bullying. Sabal, on the other hand, well, if propaganda worked for Pagan Min, why shouldn't it work for them? With Ajay clearing the radios and destroying Min’s propaganda, it would be so easy to step in and try to sway people to their side.

Mohan's son has arrived and they're taking back Kyrat.

For now, Sabal prays. Sat in a dimmed room before one of Kyra’s shrines, he thinks and he prays. His concern is that Ajay won't slow down because he's in it for the blood. No, his concern is if Ajay isn't killing Royal guards, will he be able to contain his bloodlust. He said it himself, it has not been long since he left his American army and between then and now, Sabal isn't fully sure what he was doing but he kills so easily, so coldly. Sabal hasn't seen him in the act, not really, but Ajay sleeps so easy.

Sabal hasn't sleep easy in years and he knows for a fact, neither has Amita.

The door opens but Sabal isn't shaken from his pose.

“Sabal?” Ajay says quietly. “Amita said you were here.”

“And here I am, brother,” Sabal agrees.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” he asks.

“Not at all,” Sabal promises. “Please, join me.” Awkwardly, Ajay enters the room, quietly closing the door behind him, and comes to kneel beside Sabal on the floor. He sits without saying anything and by his stance, without praying, too. Sabal opens an eye to look at him only to find Ajay looking back. Ajay quickly looks somewhere else.

“Are you a religious man, Ajay?” Sabal asks.

“No,” Ajay replies sheepishly. “Religious people and I don't get along.”

“Oh?” Sabal says.

“They don't- usually like who I am,” Ajay murmurs. A psychopath? Sabal _couldn't_ imagine. “That kind of thing doesn't exactly leave a good taste for religion in your mouth.”

“Kyra works in many ways,” Sabal assures. “She brought you here, did she not? She lead you to us when we needed you most. She would not make you any way she did not want you to be.” Ajay doesn't say anything but doesn't express either, his face a somber blank page as he looks over Kyra’s shrine. Yes, Sabal knows not to be scared of Ajay all things aside. He's mean, he's a killer, but he's also- Ajay. He helps people for no other reason than to help and he's far too concerned with coming off impolite or offensive. He does so much good. He's here to save them.

Sabal opens his eyes proper, unfolding himself from his praying pose to instead cross his legs and put his hands on his knees. He looks at Ajay and Ajay looks back, that concerned wrinkle in his eyebrow again like he wants to ask something but he's not sure of the response he'll get.

“Was there something you needed?” Sabal asks.

“Amita said that I was moving things too fast,” Ajay says. Yes, well, he and Amita can't always disagree, can they? Sometimes she actually has the decency to have some sense.

“And you've come to me to confirm that, brother?” Sabal questions. It’s good that Ajay isn't willing to just listen to whatever Amita tells him. By now she's seen that he is their best hope and she's already started trying to play him as a fool. Hopefully he's not falling for it.

“Just- making sure you're in agreement,” Ajay says like he doesn't want to give off the idea that he doesn't trust her. Sabal certainly wouldn't blame him for that. He puts a hand on Ajay's shoulder warmly.

“You have already done so much for us, son of Mohan, you have no idea how much it means to all of Kyrat,” Sabal assures. Ajay looks away. “But I'm afraid it's true, things are moving faster than we have the resources to keep up with. The Golden Path needs time to strengthen our numbers and our armory so we can make sure the Royal Army can't push us back again.”

“That's what I thought,” Ajay comments.

“But there is more you can do than simply take outposts and hunt down commanders,” Sabal says. “Some more ‘personal’ matters.” Ajay looks at him again, a vague alertness taking his features. He just wants to help so much. Sabal smiles fondly.

“Personal?” Ajay repeats. “I- Sabal-”

“We can still use furs and equipment,” Sabal says. Ajay opens his mouth to speak but instead just a little exhale leaves. He must be tired of fighting off vicious animals already and he can't exactly be blamed for that. “You should talk to some of the civilians around town, too. If we want to grow our numbers, people need to know that the Golden Path is thriving again and no one will be able to do that better than you can, brother.”

“Right,” Ajay says. “Okay.”

“While you're at it, sleeping and eating is always helpful, too,” Sabal urges. “Don't overwork yourself brother.”

“I won't,” Ajay says as he gets to his feet. Sabal watches as he goes. They really can use those furs and hopefully, hunting animals will satisfy him for now. It'll certainly reduce animal attacks and in turn maybe less of their men will die from hyper aggressive eagles. Maybe.

\- x -

Sabal is irritated. He watches, thoughtfully and quietly, as Amita works on getting those claws of hers into Ajay.

Taking their concern to heart, Ajay has been using his time and energy to help in whatever ways he can without stressing their numbers anymore. Today, he's helped bring back a rather large sum of weapons retrieved from the Royal Army. He even goes as far as to stand around to help take count and get them ready to use. This is when Amita has launched her attack.

She's helping him and they're _laughing_. Sabal’s never gotten Ajay to laugh, he can barely get a smile out of him most days. What could she _possibly_ be talking about with him? He knew this would come, this is how it starts, she pretends like she's making friends so when she starts playing the victim card they actually have reason to feel bad.

Ajay glances at him and Sabal offers him a friendly smile to which he gets a smaller one back. Sabal knows better; Amita is surely trying to drag his name in the mud again. There's no reason for this to go on any longer. Sabal comes to join them and whatever conversation they were having comes to a dead stop.

“Hello Ajay,” Sabal greets as he begins to help perform maintenance on whatever still needs it. “Amita.”

“Hi,” Ajay murmurs back.

“Sabal,” Amita answers mildly. “What do you want?”

“Want?” Sabal repeats. “I don't _want_ anything, sister. I'm simply helping.”

“Is this not woman's work?” she asks sharply. Ajay watches the two of them without much feeling. He knew it. Left to her own devices, Amita would have Ajay believing that Sabal doesn't respect women. There is a difference between ‘women's work’ and work suitable for women. Just because he believes there are separate responsibilities for men and women, both equally important, she thinks she has the right to slander him.

Women cook and care for the home and every time one of them dies fighting the Royal Army, a little bit of Kyrat’s culture dies with them. Sabal thinks no lesser of women than he does of men and Amita doing everything in her power to try to prove otherwise is nothing new. He'll have to be careful not to let Ajay fall for it.

“Of course not,” Sabal answers, stilling his tongue from saying anything needlessly sharp and inevitably eliciting another argument. “We need whatever help we can get right now, do we not?” Amita glares at him but she doesn't say anything else on the topic. Sabal knows she wants to, knows she wants to ‘call him out’, but she doesn't want to look like the instigator in front of Ajay. The three of them work in silence for a bit.

“If I may,” Sabal says. “What did you do after the army, brother? I have to say, seeing what you've done here makes me wonder why you left. Was it because of your mother?”

“Ishwari,” Amita cuts in sharply. “She has a name.”

“Ishwari,” Sabal repeats like a dagger in his mouth aimed straight for her throat.

“No,” Ajay says. “The army didn't exactly like who I was either. Seven years of no one asking and me not telling, I was tired. They were willing to let me go so I went.” Sabal feels like he's missing something. The American military _didn't_ want a cold blooded killer? He doesn't know much about American military except it's very, very large and there were many reasons Mohan didn't want their help. Sabal is certain one of those reasons were people like Ajay.

“Uh, that was before I knew my mother was as sick as she was,” Ajay continues like he suddenly realised Sabal had asked a different question. “By the time I knew, it was too late to do anything for her. Not that I could have anyways, I guess. I spent the last of her days with her and then made plans to come here.”

“I'm sorry for your loss, brother,” Sabal says softly, placing his hand on Ajay's shoulder. “Ishwari was a good woman.” Amita scoffs pointedly but still doesn't say anything.

“Yeah,” Ajay replies distantly. “There's not a direct route into Kyrat so I spent some time in India while trying to figure out how to get here.”

“Pagan Min makes it as difficult as possible for people to get in and out of the country,” Sabal agrees. “I'm glad you got here in one piece. You're a good man for doing all this just for Ishwari’s sake.” Again, he doesn't get a laugh but he gets a relaxed, mute little smile.

Sabal isn't sure if he got what he wanted out of this conversation. He probably shouldn't have expected Ajay to admit he likes killing enough to do it when there's no reason for it. Of course, it also could be that he simply doesn't. Perhaps just because a person is good at something doesn't require them to like it- or even dislike it. Perhaps Ajay kills more like he maintains guns; absent mindedly, systematically, and only when it needs to be done. This makes a little more sense.

“If Sabal is done with his rude interruption,” Amita says easily. “You were telling me about your time in Afghanistan?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Ajay says. Sabal listens quietly. Ajay laughs less.


	2. Rebel Yell

Sabal could explain it a hundred different ways, spend a hundred hours across a hundred days and Amita still would not understand. They both know there's no point in arguing, neither of them ever budge, but they do it anyways. She wants _intel_ over people when they're already so low on people? She speaks like she wants to be strategic and logical but she won't see the fault in her own plan. So she gets intel now and then what? They have no one left to gather intel later.

It's not even about their ‘usefulness’. They can't just leave people to die, it is not their way. If they have an opportunity to help them, than they must. If Sabal could have saved Darpan and Ajay both, he would have without hesitation. Amita would never admit it, obviously, but she knows choosing Ajay was the right choice.

Usually their stalemates are broken by a sudden need for action and it only matters who is quicker on the draw. This time, that's not the case. If either of them want anything to happen out of this situation, they need Ajay's help. This is why Sabal brought him here- this is why Amita has begun digging her claws in. People will listen to the word of Mohan Ghale’s son and whoever Ajay decides to stand behind, the people will follow.

Ajay stays in the house too long, too long for either of them to be comfortable with, but eventually he strays back out. Sabal watches him and Ajay briefly looks between he and Amita before approaching her. He clenches his teeth but is patient. He knows Ajay and he knows Ajay wouldn't abandon people's lives like this. The distance between them is just enough for Sabal to hear but not understand. He keeps his head down, his hands wound together as he stares at the beads around his wrist. Kyra will not let him down, not now.

Then Ajay approaches him. Sabal unclenches his teeth as Amita sends him an aggravated stare.

“How can I help?” Ajay asks. If Ajay is planning on trying to help them both, he's going to be disappointed. He got off lucky being able to save those hostages without casualties and then immediately turn around and clear an outpost without so much as a grain of help. It's not always going to be like that.

Sabal tells him how he can help, doesn't sugar coat it or try to butter him up, just clean and to the point. Get to the camp, do what he can. That's all there is too it. He needs to know that Ajay will do the right thing. Of course, he will, _of course_ he will, but Sabal needs to be sure.

Ajay leaves.

Sabal stares at Amita and Amita stares back. He's not sure either of them know what Ajay will do. They certainly aren't going to just sit around and wait, that's for sure, but with Ajay on his way to break their stalemate, there's nothing more for them to argue about. They go their separate ways to start making plans either to help Ajay or, inevitably for one of them, try to scramble together some kind of fall back plan.

Sabal doesn't bother with a fall back plan. Kyra guides him.

\- x -

Amita is mad she didn't get her way, of course she is, but she'd never show it here. Ajay saved people today, he saved a lot of people, and whatever intel that was lost could never have compared. They don't even know what it was or if they even needed it. Ajay made the right choice.

It's so much more than that, though. People are watching Ajay, every move he makes and everything he does, and they're seeing him. Morale is higher than, well, Sabal feels like saying ‘ever’ is dramatic but he honestly can't think of a time that compares. People are believing in the Golden Path again. So it's not propaganda, but it has the same effect. With people realising that they actually stand a chance again, seeing that the Golden Path are actually helping people, _saving_ people, they're recruiting people by the dozens.

Amita can be mad all she wants but she can't argue with progress.

They toast to Ajay and they eat and celebrate, for once in a long time, everyone seems to be having a good time. Tonight they celebrate and tomorrow, they set their sights on an even higher bar. Sabal is eager to assure Ajay he can get back to proper work, taking outposts and clearing south Kyrat to his heart's content. For now, though, he enjoys himself, too.

Sort of.

Ajay seems to have made a friend over the course of the night and Sabal can't help but keep his eyes on them. He's not familiar with this guy even if he looks like Golden Path and he doesn't like that they've gotten so cozy so quickly. It's suspicious. They talk and they laugh and they sit well close enough for this stranger to get his hands into Ajay's drunk pockets if he so wishes. Could it just be some pickpocket, too dense to realise who he's stealing from? Of course.

But Sabal isn't counting out the idea that someone may legitimately try to assassinate Ajay.

Even if this is just a friendly, nothing suspicious happening exchange, he's still annoyed that this guy is taking advantage of Ajay's ignorance to their culture. They keep sharing food, pieces from one’s hand being placed into the others mouth, glasses tainted by one's lips being given to the other. Sabal doesn't know what this guy is hoping to get out of this but he's certainly gotten Ajay to let his guard down.

A mistake, surely.

“What's wrong, Sabal?” Amita asks coldly. “Have a problem with something? Shouldn't you be celebrating the loss of important intel?” Sabal glances at her shortly before turning back again. He can't be bothered much by this attempt at eliciting an angry response from him; she's already loss today, he won't waste his energy.

“No, nothing,” he says instead. “Do you know that guy?” Amita looks over his shoulder, obviously already knowing who he's referring to. It's hard to miss when it looks like the world has stopped around Ajay and his new ‘friend’.

“Mm, no,” Amita replies. “I don't. Ajay looks like he's having a good time, though. You've already pressed him under your thumb enough, leave him alone.” Neither of them know him? This makes Sabal uneasy. It's usually pretty telling who is Royal Army and who isn't. Aside from a few that had gone off the deep end, the Royal Army is full of people distinctly not Kyrati. Sabal can't positively say one way or another about this guy from here, though.

Assassination doesn't seem up Pagan Min’s sleeve, though. Or De Pluer for that matter. They tend to like their playthings more alive and screaming. A kidnap attempt, then. Ajay's drunk and unsuspecting, no one else would notice very quickly- except Sabal obviously. The stranger doesn't seem to notice he's being watched, though, doesn't care. He leans over to whisper in Ajay’s ear, Ajay nods, and then they're- leaving?

There's something wrong about this. Sabal watches them make their way out and Amita leans over to pour him more whiskey.

“Before you go,” she says. “You'll need it.” Does she know something about this? Her precious ‘intel’ actually being useful for once? He doesn't care. There's no time to bother and she wouldn't tell him, anyways. If she knows anything, she'll keep it to herself so she can be the hero- even if it means putting Ajay at risk.

Sabal waits a beat and then he gets up to follow, adjusting his pistol on his belt as he goes.

Once outside, he doesn't spot them immediately and Sabal has a quiet, slow look around. He stays low and hidden, not wanting to be spotted in case this is an immediate threat and if not, well, Sabal wants to know what's going on, anyways. He hears them around the corner and follows them from a distance to, sure enough, a dark alley. They duck behind a building and Sabal gets ready to assist Ajay when this goes south.

When he peers around the corner though, it's not Ajay getting ready to be kidnapped that he sees. Sabal is- confused. The man, by all accounts much larger than Ajay, is perched on a crate and Ajay stands between his legs. Kissing. They're kissing. Ajay is kissing another man. On the mouth. Sabal doesn't know what to make of this.

“Are you sure this is okay? People might have noticed,” Ajay says softly, lips hovering and hands in places they should never be on another man. The other snorts a small laugh.

“I think people noticed. But you're Ajay Ghale,” he assures with a grin. “It's not like anyone's going to say anything to you.”

“What about you?” Ajay replies. Even now, always worried about other people more than himself. The guy hesitates.

“I'll be fine,” he promises. “Nothing I'm not already used to. Around here, especially with the war going on it's- how did you put it? No one asks and no one tells.” Ajay frowns. “Like I said, it's fine.”

“Sorry,” Ajay murmurs, taking the guy's face in his hand as he kisses him again. Sabal’s skin crawls.

“Don't be,” comes the soft reply. “Who knows, maybe seeing the great Ajay Ghale will make people stop, uh-”

“Being people?” Ajay finishes. The man laughs.

“I guess that's too much to ask for,” he says. “Nevermind that. We could go to the outlook,” he suggests, leaning in to let Ajay kiss him more. “There shouldn't be anyone out there right now. We could be alone? People like us, uh, don't get much ‘practice’ out here but-”

“I guess you're lucky an experienced American man is here to show you,” Ajay assures. They both laugh. ‘Like us’. Men that like other men. Ajay likes other men. Sabal can't help the way his whole body tenses. _Why_? How- someone like Ajay in a place like this? Any number of women would be honored to stand beside him. Yet here he is, _touching_ another man.

Sabal senses the sudden and unmistakable sensation of Ajay noticing something, him in this case, and he quickly pulls back behind the building corner before he's see. He's dead silent, only praying his heart isn't as loud as it sounds in his ears. A moment of silence passes.

“Ajay?” the guy says carefully. “What's wrong?” Ajay doesn't reply immediately, clearly still keenly aware that whatever was around hasn't left. If Sabal leaves now, Ajay will definitely hear him and Sabal isn't sure what he'd do in a confrontation like that. This is all too unexpected, too bizarre for him. He needs time to think, and pray, on this.

“Nothing,” Ajay murmurs. “Sorry. Let's go.” They, fortunately, go a different way. Sabal releases his hold of his pistol and takes a moment just to collect his thoughts. Mohan's son, the man sent to them by Kyra herself to give them a fighting chance again, likes other men? He doesn't _understand_. What's the point? What could Ajay possibly get out of such a thing? It makes Sabal so _uneasy_.

Of course Sabal knows there are men out there like that but to think Ajay is one of them? Had he not seen it for himself, the very idea would be laughable if not utterly offensive. Nothing in their religious teachings, nothing from Kyra says two men can't be together but it certainly doesn't say they can, either. There's quite literally nothing that says anything about something like this in their sacred text.

Their culture though? Men do not lie with other men. They simply _don't_. Men like that are confused or misguided, usually with no way to help them, and few and far between. Ajay isn't like that. Ajay _couldn't_ be like that. Sabal has seen it for himself, though. There's no other explanation for this.

Disoriented, Sabal returns to where everyone else is celebrating and returns to where he was sitting beside Amita earlier. He finishes his whiskey.

“What's wrong, _brother_?” Amita asks. “Find something you didn't like?” She knew about this, didn't she? How could she have found out? Maybe she tried to seduce Ajay only to be turned down for being a woman. Sabal wouldn't have put it past her. As weird and wrong and nonsensical as it is, it's Ajay. He can't lose Ajay's support.

“Hm?” he replies, trying to bring himself back to his senses. “Of course not. Why? Do _you_ have a problem with it?”

“Not at all,” Amita assures. “Times change, Sabal. There's no reason to cling to the past.” There's nothing in the _past_ about this. She just wants him to turn his back on Ajay so she can use him for her bidding. That's not going to happen. So Ajay likes other men, that's- Sabal shudders- fine.

“If we don't respect our past, there's no future for us,” Sabal says mildly. If at all possible, he's going to simply pretend he knows nothing about this. It doesn't matter. Ajay is here to help them turn the tides of war, not pursue romantical endeavors. If occasionally behind closed doors far, far away from Sabal he lies with other men to stop himself from being lonely or- _whatever_ , than that's his business and no one else, especially Sabal, needs to know about it.

“It's okay if it makes you uncomfortable, Sabal,” Amita insists. She never knows when to still her fucking tongue. “I'm sure Ajay will understand you don't like who he is, either.” He's never really dealt with anything like this before, it's never been an issue that needs addressing, she has no proof that this is anything he has a problem with. Not that she of all people needs proof to slander him.

The closest he's been to something like this is the Royal Army. They take hostages frequently and turn them to sex slaves less often with little regard to if they're man or woman. The only women in Pagan Min’s army are the ones strategically placed there, Yuma or Noore or the voice of his propaganda bullshit. Which only means that those foreign mercenaries care much less what bodies they sleep with- man or woman.

This doesn't make Sabal feel any better.

“I like Ajay just fine,” Sabal snaps irritably. He pours a little more whiskey into her glass even though she doesn't need it and she refills his. “I could do less with you being a sore loser.” He downs his drink as she gives him a vicious glare.

He could never ask Ajay to not be who he is. However, he can definitely leave it alone and hope Ajay continues to keep it on the low. No, no one will say anything to Ajay Ghale, the great Mohan Ghale’s son, but they'll definitely say things to each other. Sabal isn't looking forward to having to deal with people who, on the same breath, will ask Ajay for help and then urge that he's a broken man.

Next time, he'll leave sleeping dholes lie. Even if they're two men.

\- x -

Sabal understands a bit better now.

Kyra has sent them a savior, skilled and cunning and a natural killer, and she knew that, given time, it would be possible for people to sway Ajay from doing what is right. People like Amita. After all, Ajay is still only human, and with Amita doing her damnedest to put words in Ishwari’s mouth to lure Ajay with, he couldn't be blamed for falling for them. So, of course, the wise Kyra has assured Sabal could help steer Ajay down the right path.

Ajay likes men and, well, Sabal is a man.

Sabal has been dealing with the thought all night and it still makes his skin crawl uncomfortably. If Kyra has made Ajay this way than it was for a reason and right now, the reason seems pretty apparent. Is Sabal willing to be Ajay's ‘lover’ for the sake of Kyrat? Of course, if that's what it takes Sabal is willing to make that sacrifice. He simply- needs time to get used to the idea. Unfortunately, time is usually what they don't have and he's doing his best to desensitize himself to the idea.

It's not going so well. He likes Ajay well enough but thinking about being touched in places only a woman should ever stray makes Sabal squirm. The man he had seen Ajay with was larger, both tall and wide, than Ajay and certainly Sabal. There certainly won't be any point in debating it, Ajay will expect him to play the ‘woman’. He's not even fully sure how two men go about such a thing. He doesn't really want to know.

If that were the worst of it, the touching and kissing and _other_ , then Sabal thinks he'd be fine. It's not, though. The thought of people knowing about it is a thousand times worse and how are they not going to know? People staring at him, knowing Ajay touches him intimately, thinking him a confused and broken man- Sabal’s skin crawls all over again. He's the leader of the Golden Path and something like this would change how his people see him permanently.

Sabal doesn't know if it's better or worse that he's had few women in his life previous to this and never for very long. There really isn't time for something like that around here and honestly, he's never really been interested in trying. Amita likes to discredit his concern for Bhadra’s safety by saying things like he wants to marry her ‘like the _great_ Mohan’ and Sabal never dignifies that with an answer. He has no interest in Bhadra, only the Tarun Matara. The distinction makes no difference to Amita and he knows it.

He just reminds himself that if this is what Kyra has planned for him than he has no place to try to go against it. As long as he remains faithful and follows the signs she lays before him, Kyrat will be a proud country again, free of Pagan Min. Sabal will have complete control of the Golden Path with Mohan’s son beside him and Bhadra at her rightful place as Tarun Matara.

All he has to do is convince Ajay he's also a man who likes men- specifically Ajay himself. That seems- easy enough as long as Sabal can stop his skin from trying to jump off his body every time he thinks about it. So far _that's_ not been easy.

It's hard for him to tell in retrospect if Ajay has been ‘interested’ in him this whole time. On one hand, he can see how Ajay may have wanted to ask if Sabal was such a man but not be sure of what the response would be leading to that concerned little crevice of his brow. How that watching ‘too close’ and listening ‘too well’ hid more questionable motives. Did Ajay help those people because it was the right thing to do or because he was hoping to bed Sabal?

Maybe Sabal was right after all and Ajay only cares about the blood unless he thinks he can get something else out of it.

On the other hand, Ajay clearly didn't have a problem making it obvious to someone else. Sabal doesn't think it matters much. Women find him attractive enough, there's no reason men wouldn't.

He considers, briefly, going to the outpost the man Ajay had slept with was sent to and perhaps asking him some questions, more of a general variety than of Ajay specifically, but Sabal can't bring himself to do it. The thought of interacting with someone like that, of accidentally ‘coming on’ to him, makes his stomach uneasy. He'll find his own way through this, just as he always has.


	3. Fortress

Sabal has sent Ajay to the monastery to hopefully understand Mohan a little better. The monastery will show him what their religion means to Kyrat, the sacrifices a person must make. That’s what he said, at least, in reality it was more to just get Ajay away from him for the time being. He's made up his mind, there was really nothing to make up, and all that's left is figuring out how to go about it. Well that and trying to stop his stomach from flipping every time he thinks about it.

The man he's brought with him has the ‘interrogation’ under control leaving Sabal to sit back and watch and think. He's found a few books on such things but they're not exactly helpful. One of the fiction variety is more interested in describing in great detail a man's cock and how to seduce a ‘yeti’ and the other, of a more nonfiction variety, is too American for him to really wrap his head around contextually. Likewise, he's happened across two tapes that he managed to procure without anyone noticing with the unfortunate knowledge that they're sex tapes and, sure enough, are full of only sex.

Sabal isn't quite interested enough to desensitize himself that much and he's learned nothing about how to go about actually _dating_ another man. Do men even date each other? It seems like a silly question, if they lie together of course they date, but trying to even consider how that would happen boggles his mind.

If he were to approach Ajay as if he were asking the hand of a woman, Ajay would surely be offended that Sabal thinks he would be the woman in their relationship. However, women don't often instigate relationships around here unless- well, Sabal would say unless they're like Amita but she certainly has no interested in romantics. For as much as she refuses to cook or clean or act with an ounce of womanhood, she certainly knows how to keep herself surrounded by other women.

How did that man get Ajay's attention or was it the other way around? Sabal doesn't know who instigated that or how, he hadn't started paying attention until it was too late. Does he just bat his eyelashes and show some skin until Ajay gets the hint? That's not exactly time that Sabal has. Or the nerve, honestly.

He can't be too upset when his buddy gets a little too rough with their ‘friend’. Sabal closes his eyes tiredly as the implication takes a new meaning in his thoughts now. No, this Golden Path member, a name Sabal didn't get before hand, he's certainly not- _that_ way. Why would he be? Not that it matters, anyways, he does his job and that's it. Sabal quite honestly doesn't need to know anything more than that.

They've certainly beaten captured soldiers to death before. It can be hard not to when they're responsible for so much tragedy and devastation. Sabal supposes he hasn't been paying enough attention because when he finally focuses, the guy is a new shade of purple and most of his blood is on the ground.

“You know, they talk better if they have teeth,” Sabal comments. He only gets a satisfied scoff in reply. “No matter. If he knew anything important, he would have said so by now. This is a waste of our time, brother. Kill him.”

“Gladly,” comes the reply. This is unfortunately not very uncommon. Usually the people they can get a hold of alive are people who don't know anything useful. Sabal feels this is more of a morale boost than anything else, honestly.

“Sabal,” Ajay's voice over his radio makes him cringe more of its suddenness than anything else. “The army attacked the monastery. I chased them off.”

After all, what do they need with intel when they have Ajay Ghale?

\- x -

It just has to be casual, natural dare he say, even if Sabal can't exactly find anything _natural_ about this. So he'll be known as the man who saved Kyrat’s lover, or Ajay Ghale’s lover whichever sounds more impressive. That sounds like a small price to pay, honestly, especially when the alternative is let Amita have her way and destroy their culture in the process.

Sabal only needs to wait for his moment. It can't be suspicious but, of course, he's certain there's no reason for Ajay to find it suspicious. Unexpected, maybe, but not suspicious. If Ajay were to ever find out he’s faking it, well, Sabal doesn't want to think about that. He imagines it ends with his blood on Ajay's hands and a whole lot of mess. He also imagines that's about how well a breakup would go so once he's in, there's no going back.

He's starting to think he prays a little _too_ well. Either that or Kyra is trying to make up for something terrible in his future. Things are going too well for him lately, an unfortunate thing to have to complain about.

Sabal has to make his way through the excited crowd that has gathered in order to get to where Amita is. She looks absolutely stunned and for once in her life, quiet. He looks around but everyone else is in a similar state of disbelief and excitement. What on earth is happening here?

“Amita?” Sabal says. “What's wrong?”

“Ajay,” Amita murmurs. Sabal’s heart flutters nervously.

“What happened to Ajay, Amita?” he demands a little more harshly. She looks up at him.

“Ajay took Varshakot,” she says. What? “De Pluer’s fortress is in Golden Path hands.” Sabal is equally as stunned. He honestly doesn't know what to say to this at all. That's incredible, incredibly stupid also, but incredible. Impressed is putting it lightly. He can't help the anger that flares up, though.

“You sent him to take Varshakot by himself?” he barks irritably. “Are you trying to get him killed?”

“I did not!” Amita snaps back. “I- I didn't mean to imply that, either. I only told him that until the fortress is taken care of, all of the outposts in this area are going to be at risk. I also told him there's no way for us to even get near that fortress unless we deal with De Pluer first. That stupid boy doesn't know how to listen!” Sabal wants to argue, wants to put the blame for this on her, but he thinks that's what got them in the position in the first place. He'd be the first to say it but sometimes Amita is right about things, in this case not going on a suicide mission to take a severely dangerous fort. Maybe he gave Ajay the wrong idea and he didn't believe her. Of course, on the other hand that does sound like a stupid thing Mohan’s stupid, suicidal son would do anyways. Ajay definitely has Mohan’s fire.

It's no one's fault if nothing bad happened.

“And now we have Varshakot,” Sabal says. Amita smiles a little and she nods.

“And now we have Varshakot,” she agrees. This is huge. Not only does this mean the attacks on their outposts in the area are going to greatly reduce but it's going to make De Pluer nervous- and pissed.

“Ajay!” someone says excitedly and they both turn to try to see past the crowd. Everyone congratulates and compliments him as he awkwardly tries to make his way through them to come speak. Amita stands, still smiling pleasantly.

“Ajay,” she says. “That was _the_ _most_ foolish thing you could have done but- it's a huge step forward for us. You did a good job today. Now promise me you won't do anything like that again, okay?” Ajay laughs sheepishly.

“I didn't think it was that big of a deal,” he says. Not a big deal? Sabal has seen that fortress, he's done recon on it many a time before, and there's no way it's not ‘a big deal’. Those fortresses are massive, crawling with Royal Army, and surrounded with dangerous minefields and patrolling parties. It's the base of De Pluer’s whole operation and Ajay just- dealt with it.

“Well it was,” Amita assures. “We're going to get some of our people in there immediately. This is going to throw De Pluer off but it's also going to make him very, very mad. We should be able to defend Varshakot but we're going to have to be careful. The Royal Army around here is going to be cut off from their usual command structure and that's going to make them more volatile and dangerous than usual.”

“I can take care of the rest of the outposts,” Ajay promises. “Give them less places to hide.”

“That's good but we need to find a way to hit De Pluer and soon,” Amita says. “He'll be nervous and disorganized. Get some rest, you deserve it, and we'll try to figure out where to go from here.”

“Okay,” Ajay agrees and he looks to Sabal, perhaps to confirm that they're in agreement. They are, of course, this is all very basic stuff that they rarely disagree on. Sabal doesn't think about it, or tries not to, at least. He moves forward and in a determined sweep, kisses Ajay firmly on the mouth. It feels like the entire world goes dead silent, somehow a thousand times more shocked than they were a couple minutes ago. Ajay stares at him wide eyed, alarmed, and alert. Everyone else stares too.

Without saying a word, Ajay walks off. That didn't go as planned. Sabal gives a nasty look to anyone still staring in shock at him and the small crowd urgently disperses before he does anything about this. Amita smacks him hard in the arm and instinctively, Sabal raises his hand to hit her back but stills himself.

“What was that?” she demands harshly. “Since when are you in the habit of kissing other men, Sabal?”

“What business is it of yours?” Sabal snaps back. That felt weird and he didn't particularly care for it but he withholds the want to rub his mouth clean again.

“ _Sabal_ ,” Amita snarls. “If you think you can manipulate Ajay into doing what you want by trying to be his boyfriend-” The word ‘boyfriend’ makes Sabal cringe in a way ‘lover’ doesn't.

“And who said I was doing that?” he cuts her off sharply. “Are you really selfish enough to think the only reason I could possibly like someone is to have an advantage on you? Sounds more up your alley.”

“You don't like men, Sabal,” Amita hisses at him.

“You have no idea _what_ I like,” Sabal bites back. “Or are you still fooling yourself into thinking I want to make Bhadra my wife?” Amita glares at him and Sabal glares right back. She isn't going to ruin this for him- that is, if he hasn't already ruined it himself.

“Sabal, if I find so much of a speck of proof that you're lying to him-” Amita warns.

“You can waste time looking for whatever you want, Amita,” Sabal assures. She won't find any ‘proof’ because there isn't any. If anyone's going to realise he's insincere, it's going to be Ajay. That's not any better, but at least she won't have the satisfaction. They go their separate ways.

\- x -

Sabal doesn't know where Ajay went off to but maybe that's for the better. He had expected a different reaction than just walking off, he'll say that. Perhaps that wasn't as casual and natural as he had been hoping it would be. Perhaps he's just a bad kisser?

Perhaps Sabal was wrong. He can't help but remember he hasn't actually seen the guy Ajay supposedly laid down with since they had disappeared together. He only vaguely knows he was from one of the camps Ajay saved and that most people there were moved to somewhere a little more safe to lick their wounds. Does he really think Ajay had lured that man off somewhere private just to kill him?

No, he really doesn't. It's far more likely Ajay just likes men than it is he'd murder a companion in arms. Sabal knows which he prefers, anyways. Liking other men, though strange and nonsensical, doesn't hurt anyone.

Sabal looks over his shoulder as he hears footsteps and Ajay comes to sit beside him. Neither of them say anything for a couple seconds. He's not sure if he should say anything let alone needs to. His mouth has already gotten him in enough trouble tonight.

Worse still, he can hear them whispering already and he hasn't even gotten anything out of it yet. People surprised and alarmed to discover their mighty leader likes men and, more importantly, tried to kiss the great Mohan’s son. People calling him confused and misguided and broken. Sabal clenches his teeth.

“I expected to find you praying,” Ajay murmurs.

“One does not need a shrine or temple to pray, brother,” Sabal assures. “Only faith that Kyra is listening.” There's silence again, Ajay with his arms crossed and Sabal with his hands wound together calmly. More seconds pass.

“Amita said,” Ajay begins and he stops, thinks now if he should even bother. Sabal scowls instinctively.

“What exactly did Amita say, brother,” he presses irritably. Ajay sighs.

“She's under the impression that you'd sooner shoot another man than let him touch you,” he murmurs. How dare she? Sabal knows he has a violent temper, it is a gift of a great warrior and tool of a better strategist, but for her to say that he would lash out at his own over something so minor? Even if that were the case, if a man were to accidentally come on to him with the idea that he was like them, Sabal would never hurt a man devote enough to him to hope for such a thing.

“Amita should learn to keep her assumptions to herself,” Sabal snarls. Ajay doesn't say anything. Violence over something so stupid, so harmless, who does she think she is? Another lapse of silence.

“Why did you kiss me, Sabal?” Ajay asks. Sabal can't exactly pretend he didn't know Ajay likes men, Amita would cut that out from under him as quickly as she could, but he doesn't need to say that exactly.

“I'm sorry, brother,” he says. “I shouldn't have assumed you were-” Interested.

“No,” Ajay cuts him off with a rather frustrated sigh. This isn't going at all how Sabal wants. “That's not what I meant. You haven't exactly seemed interested in me before this.”

“I suppose I wasn't sure before,” Sabal murmurs. “Or didn't want to come off forward, rather. You're very important to us Ajay and I didn't want you to think, ah, well, a lot of things now.” He hates how sincere he sounds. The sudden realisation that he's just straight up lying to Ajay somehow makes him feel worse than the idea of having to touch him intimately. There's no way around it, though. Ajay never has to know and Kyrat will be better for it. Ajay nods, almost thoughtfully.

“What exactly do you want out of this?” he asks. Sabal doesn't understand what he's asking and therefore, doesn't really want to answer. “People around here don't exactly seem to date.”

“No,” he says. “I guess not.” People are more likely to get married before they date and that itself is treated more like a business than a pleasure. If you happen to marry someone you end up liking then that's a bonus. If not, you have some children and deal with it anyways. Dating is- a luxury that people are just now beginning to take into consideration. Sabal knows distantly this is because it's becoming more frowned upon to marry off young girls but he also knows it has a lot to do with women like Amita deciding they won't ‘settle’.

Sabal’s never been married, never had a want to be, and the few women he's had ‘encounters’ with weren't memorable at best. And now he's signing on to be with Ajay for the long run.

“The way things are right now, Sabal,” Ajay finally speaks again. “I don't think I'd be comfortable just having sex.” Sabal takes that back, the thought of having sex with another man is way worse than the lying.

“I have to say, I was hoping for a little more than that,” he assures. Ajay looks at him, searches with those alert, hyper vigilant eyes, and Sabal tries not to flinch. It's not accusing or suspicious, just far too soft and far too gentle. Ajay leans over to kiss him and Sabal stables himself. It's softer and warmer than the way Sabal had tried to kiss him earlier. It still feels weird and wrong. Again, Ajay looks at him, more questioning this time.

“Sorry, I thought-” he begins.

“It's okay,” Sabal says quickly. His hands are held so tightly together he can see his knuckles paling. “Like you said, dating isn't exactly a normal occurrence around here especially for- I'm just a little out of practice, brother.” Ajay laughs a little but it only sounds like he's being laughed at.

“You want us to date, then?” Ajay asks. If that's what it takes, then yes. That sounds easier than just waiting around for when Ajay wants to have sex with him.

“If that's what you want,” Sabal replies.

“Yeah, I, uh, I'd like that,” Ajay murmurs with a small smile. Sabal looks at him and Ajay looks back. He knows what happens now. He's read those books as nonsensical as they were and watched those videos, briefly but enough. Ajay will whisk him away to somewhere ‘private’ and ‘consummate’ their new relationship. Sabal tries not to clench his jaw, tries not to tense or shake, tries to ease the grip on his hands. He leans in this time and Ajay meets him, another brief kiss on the lips Sabal won't be able to get off later anymore.

Ajay sighs, content and happy sounding. He puts his hand on Sabal’s thigh and Sabal twitches away instinctively. Ajay pulls away. Sabal offers him an apologetic smile he doesn't mean and Ajay laughs at him again. Does it sound louder? Does Ajay know already?

“I got to go get some sleep, Sabal,” Ajay says. “We should talk about this more later once you've thought about it, okay?” Sabal’s done just about all the thinking he can handle on this topic, actually. There's nothing else for him to think about. Ajay walks away and Sabal runs his hand down his mouth, pauses, tries to breath. His mouth feels heavy and tingly, like too much booze too quickly.

A small price to pay for the assurance of a better Kyrat.


	4. Long Nights

It's was obvious from the beginning there would be no way to keep this behind closed doors. Sabal started this, of course, kissing Ajay in front of all those people without even thinking about it. He sees how people stare at him and Ajay now, too smart to say anything but too nosy not to mind their own business. If they ever understand it won't be for years, maybe not until long after Kyrat is safe in the hands of their children's children.

Not his, of course. He and Ajay won't be having any of their own. He hears an argument, crystal clear in his mind, between them. ‘Bhadra’s twenty four now, the perfect time for a son.’ ‘If I find out you've laid a hand on her, I'll cut them off.’ It's an argument they've had every year for four years. No, Sabal sees no children of his own in the future.

It's been days and all he does is wait. Move troops and wait, ration resources and wait, yell with Amita and wait, clean up outposts after Ajay and _wait_. All Sabal can do is wait for Ajay to come back and decide it's time to make their relationship ‘official’.

He never does, though. At most Ajay gives him a kiss, which makes Sabal cringe less now, they share a meal, which they did anyway, and he hears about Ajay's day- which he would have anyway. Sabal doesn't really understand but he guesses he's not complaining, either. They've only slept in the same place once and only because he followed Ajay into a communal house and joined him in bed assuming he was supposed to make the first move. It turns out, Ajay sleeps like a dead wolf and all Sabal got for that was a twisted arm and a very sorry Ajay.

Note to self, don't sneak up on Ajay.

If he waits, Ajay will surely move on to someone else. He was so quick to bed the other guy and hasn't so much as tried to touch Sabal aside from the occasional hand on his thigh. He's almost desensitized to that, too.

Ajay knows. There's no way around it, Ajay knows and he's punishing Sabal for this. He wants to know how far Sabal will go and he's going to make Sabal do it himself. Sabal- decides this is a paranoid thought he shouldn't be having. No, Ajay knows he's nervous and likely knows he's never dated men before though for a completely different reason than the truth. He's just taking things slow. Sabal can deal with slow.

For now, Ajay has gone to check out his father's old home and not even on Sabal’s suggestion. Honestly, Sabal hadn't really had time to think about the place and hadn't thought it all that relevant, either. Ajay seems to think there's something there for him to find.

“Sabal,” his radio says and there's a distinct noise in the background he can't place. “Sabal, are you there? Sabal?”

“Yes, yes, what is it, brother?” Sabal replies mildly, poking more holes in his map as he plans out a new route for their deliveries. While Ajay is clearing out the Royal Army fast, they still find a way to slow down their plans. Two trucks attacked at similar spots? He'll have to send Ajay to check that out.

“It's Ajay,” the radio replies.

“What about Ajay?” Sabal urges. The guy makes a nervous sound. Is that cheering behind him?

“He's in the arena,” he says. Sabal drops his pen.

“ _Shit_ ,” he curses quietly. “Fucking _Noore_.” If Ajay is in there, there's no getting him out. Noore’s arena is far beyond their capability now or ever he fears. It's a big building with too many places to defend from and not enough to attack. How did Ajay even get himself in there. Stupid question, Noore obviously got a hold of him somehow. This was inevitable.

“He's, uh, fighting,” he says. No fucking shit, of course he's fighting. That's what Noore does. “ _Ooh_ , get up Ajay! You're fine!” It sounds like his inside man is somewhere away from the crowd judging by how muffled it is. It's best if he keeps out of sight. “No no no no! Other way!”

“Listen to me,” Sabal says firmly. “Is he in trouble?”

“Uh, I don't know. I mean, he's in the arena so yeah but-” the guy trails off. Ajay is a fighter, though, a good fighter. This isn't good for them but that doesn't necessarily mean Ajay is in trouble. “The gun! The gun!”

“This isn't a game, brother,” Sabal barks irritably.

“Sorry, Sabal, I've just never seen your boyfriend actually fight before. We usually don't show up until he's already done,” he murmurs.

“My _what_?” Sabal snaps.

“Ajay, I meant Ajay,” he corrects swiftly.

“What's going on in here?” Amita asks. “You're yelling an awful lot for me to not be in the room.” Sabal bites his teeth together harshly.

“Noore’s got Ajay in the arena,” he says. Amita looks alert immediately, quickly coming to sit beside him so she can hear as well and Sabal holds the radio so they both can listen. There isn't a lot they can do besides that. If Ajay turns out to be in actual trouble, they'll have a huge problem on their hands.

“Information,” Amita says sharply. “We can hear, we can't see, brother.”

“He's mostly just hiding right now, letting the others take each other out.” That sounds about right, Ajay's a smart man and clearly an expert strategist. Some people have curiously began to gather around to find out what's happening. “He's sneaking? Shit, if I wasn't up so high I don't think I would be able to track him. There's just a couple guys left.” Sabal sets the radio down on the table to clasps his hands together for prayer. Amita bites her finger.

“He did it! The first round's done! Good boy, Ajay!” It's definitely not the first round Sabal’s worried about. Things only get increasingly more difficult from here. “Okay, he's getting into position for the next one. He has a gun now, at least. He's sneaking around behind them. Ooh, uh, ouch.”

“What? What happened?” Amita demands.

“Oh, sorry, nothing it's just, uh, he's crouching a lot and he's, uh, very naked,” the guy murmurs. “His, uh, ‘unmentionables’ looks like it keeps touching the ground. That can't be comfortable.” Some ladies listening giggle quietly.

“Well Sabal will just have to kiss it better later,” Amita says scathing. Sabal’s skin jumps and his neck grows warm much too rapidly for him not to be aware he's red in anger. “The fight, _please_?”

“Yeah, yeah! Ajay's gotten through the second round no problem! He's grabbing some gear from the dead guys. They’re starting to come out, he’s heading back to a safe spot. Oh Noore’s releasing leopards! Ajay's just staying in the corner. They don't seem to notice him yet. He's really good with that shotgun.”

“Good, good. Play it smart, brother,” Sabal murmurs. He should have known better than to be worried.

“Nice! Almost done Ajay! Just one more round!” He's done this so quickly, Sabal expected nothing less. Ajay is far too skilled to take his time on something as mediocre as this. Surely Noore expected this from the beginning.

“Final round, Ajay! You can do this! _Shit_ , it’s Royal Army scum and a lot of them. Just keep your head down, brother.” This is good. Hell, this is better. Ajay knows how to kill a Royal Army soldier, after all, and he definitely knows how to massacre a whole lot of them in a very short amount of time. Everyone listens on with baited breath but Noore has lost the second she dropped Ajay into the arena. There's no way this wasn't part of her game.

What does she want?

“I- I lost him. I don't know where he went,” the guy says. Sabal raises his head a little, looking at Amita questioningly but she doesn't seem to know what's going on, either. “They're dropping like flies? Where- where is he? Noore doesn't look like she knows where he went, either. Did he get out of the arena?”

Sabal thinks he understands a little better how Ajay does what he does. He also understands a little better where that fear comes from.

“There he is! Fuck he took down the enforcer with just a knife,” the guy says. “He- he did it! Yeah! You did it Ajay! You should cover your penis!” No, nothing to be worried about. Ajay's definitely going to find out what Noore wants now. The small gathering of people cheer excitedly at the news of Ajay's success. He's not sure what they're so excited about, Ajay does stuff like this daily and they never get this excited. That's what Noore’s arena does, he supposes.

“Shouldn't you all have something to do,” Sabal comments.

“Oh I guess we should get back to work so Sabal can have a chat in private with his boyfriend,” Amita agrees. Sabal stops himself from angrily snarling but just barely, trying to grab a hold of his temper before it gets away from him.

“Yes,” he says through strained teeth. “Thank you.”

Except that never happens. Ajay doesn't answer his radio.

\- x -

Sabal waits far longer than he should. He expects Ajay to get back to them eventually, he often wanders about aimlessly for a while, but he expects it a lot sooner after he met with fucking Noore. She wouldn't have killed him even if she could, that much is obvious. If her goal was to assure his death, the arena would have proved a much better opponent.

Which probably makes it a good thing Ajay isn't _in_ the arena anymore. Their inside man assures him that Ajay had left, in a rage at that, though which direction he went is questionable. Sabal makes two assumptions; Ajay was taken from the Ghale residence and he's gone back there. Noore is a patient woman but not that patient, she surely knew Ajay would return to his childhood home sooner than she could get her hands on him otherwise.

Sabal makes his way there.

As he's approaching the house from the long, worn out path up here, he spots two guys building a tent not too far off. They're not Golden Path but they're not Army, either. As soon as they see Sabal, they urgently find something to hide behind. Sabal ignores them for the time being to knock on the door.

“Go away!” Ajay shouts back. Thank Kyra, he is here. Sabal has no idea what the Golden Path would have done if he'd been taken hostage by Noore. They already saved him once from one of Pagan Min’s men, he's not sure they'd be lucky enough to do it again.

“I'd rather not, brother,” Sabal replies. “It's a long walk up here.” There's a pause from inside, whatever Ajay was doing stopping.

“Come in,” he says, not as loud or angry this time. Sabal lets himself in. This place is an absolute mess. Ajay rubs his head irritably as he returns to pacing around and looking at all the junk lying around. He looks tired and frustrated.

“Where have you been?” Sabal asks. Ajay looks at him and then at the scrap of thangka on the wall before shaking his head and pacing again. “Ajay, we haven't heard from you in two days. What happened?”

“Some fucking junkies moved into my mother's house, that's what happened,” he bites back sourly. “Drugged me, dragged me off to fight naked, then got me drugged _again_ , probably not intentionally but I'm really questioning that, now.” He can make a wise guess and assume those were the two outside.

“You were in Shanath, Ajay,” Sabal says but this doesn’t get Ajay’s attention very much.

“Yeah,” he answers shortly, still pacing, still ruffling his hair in his hands. All the movement makes Sabal uneasy on his feet as well, the restlessness before a fight. “Noore wanted my attention and she got it.”

“You _fought_ in the arena,” Sabal says a little more irritably. “And then you disappeared for two days. I tried to reach you many times, Ajay.” This makes him pause, stop and more fully look at Sabal. He sighs, dropping his head and closing his eyes quietly.

“Sorry,” Ajay murmurs, looking at the burn marks on his wrist. “I must not have heard it. I was a little _fucking_ \- Sorry, I was a little busy.” Not heard? Sabal’s initial reaction is to be mad, of course, but he quickly rethinks this.

“We- _I_ was worried,” he says. Ajay’s irritation and frustration seems to deflate now. He looks away, brows tweaked with concern.

“I’m sorry, Sabal,” he says again, his name never quite right in Ajay’s mouth. “I didn’t know you knew I had been in the arena or I would have checked in sooner.”

“We have some people in there,” Sabal assures. Ajay pushes his hair back tiredly. This doesn’t need to be a fight and it’s not. Sabal’s surprised Ajay’s this upset, honestly, he didn’t think Ajay could get mad. He sighs and raises the bag he’s brought with him. “I made the assumption you also haven’t eaten in the last two days.”

“I-” Ajay’s stomach growls. “Forgot.”

“Forgot to eat?” Sabal repeats.

“Forgot I was hungry,” Ajay murmurs. This Sabal understands better. He moves some stuff out of the way to give them a place to sit and unwraps the meal servings he’s brought along. Ajay pulls his jacket off before sitting across from him. They wash their hands and they eat, quietly. Sabal can’t help but remember the meal Ajay had shared with his previous ‘friend’. He considers, briefly, making some sort of awkward attempt at this closeness but decides that would be a mistake for many, many reasons.

Ajay looks like he’s going to fall asleep into his rice at any second anyways.

“Not that I’m surprised, but you did good in Noore’s arena, brother,” Sabal says between bites. “What did she want?” Ajay doesn’t say anything immediately, keeping his eyes on the table as his mind wanders somewhere else.

“She wants help,” he finally replies. Noore wanting help? This sounds like a trap waiting to happen. “De Pluer has her family. He’s holding them hostage to make her do whatever they want. If I can make sure her family is safe, she’ll be a free agent. And a mad one at that.”

“Really?” Sabal murmurs. He doesn’t want to burst Ajay’s bubble. There’s no way Noore’s family is still alive, that’s just not how De Pluer works. Noore’s been in this position for years, does she really think De Pluer would have kept her family prisoner that long? Does Ajay? Even if not having simply killed them, the chance of a little ‘accident’ happening is far too likely with the Royal Army.

Sabal wants to be wrong, though. He wants Ajay to be able to find her family, safe and sound, and bring Noore to their side as a powerful ally the likes of which Pagan Min would regret like he so rarely does. It would be nice if Ajay could save everyone.

“She wants her family back and we want De Pluer out of the way, so she thinks we can work together,” Ajay says. Of course, this also sounds like a trap and if anything is easy to trick Ajay with, it’s wanting to help people. He’ll discuss this with Amita later. If it helps them get near De Pluer, it might be worth the risk. That’s Ajay’s risk to take, Noore clearly doesn’t want the Golden Path’s help, but it seems like risking Ajay is always a high risk, high reward scenario.

“The arena was to make sure you were competent, then,” Sabal says. Ajay nods absently. “Let’s pray this turns out in our favor, then.”

Sabal sits aside as Ajay washes some dishes, every time he trips over something or knocks against something, his tired anger flares up again but he calms himself just as quick with little more than a mouthful of curses. He’ll send someone up here later to take care of the place for Ajay while he’s away and perhaps do some repairs. Even if Ajay doesn’t care much about this place, Sabal would prefer to see Mohan’s home in an at least somewhat livable condition.

Ajay’s khukri gets his attention. Sabal stares at it where Ajay has put it down with his jacket, both damp and blood stained and dirty. It’s the most dirty Sabal’s seen them before, Ajay usually keeps himself so clean. It’s no wonder the dirty house bothers him so much. When he looks back, Ajay is leaned against a table with both hands gripped against it hard enough to pale his knuckles. He doesn’t move, his chest tense as he breathes.

“Ajay,” Sabal says and Ajay releases his grip before looking at him questioningly. “Is there a bed here?”

“Uh,” Ajay says, having to think about it a moment too long. “Yeah. Upstairs. I think.”

“Let’s go,” Sabal says. Does the knowledge that at any time, especially when they’re alone together like this, Ajay could decide that today is ‘the day’ and Sabal will finally have to decide if he even has the capability of taking things that far worry him? A little, of course. It’s been days now, though, and Ajay has proven that he’s going to take things slow. Worried but not legitimately concerned.

“You’re staying?” Ajay asks.

“It is a long walk down,” Sabal says again. Ajay laughs, more of a stressed scoff but amused all the same.

“Mohan wasn’t very bright to put his house way up here,” he murmurs. It’s suddenly ‘Mohan’s’ house when there’s something about it Ajay doesn’t like. Sabal gets the feeling that Ajay doesn’t think very highly of his father and it irritates him something fierce. This is Amita’s doing, he knows but he’d never say it.

Ajay heads up the ladder and Sabal follows shortly after.

He hears that argument again, four years old ten years from now. ‘Sorry for snapping, I know you wouldn’t touch Bhadra. You’ve been by my side so long, I don’t know what I would do if you betrayed me like that.’ Sabal’s blood all over his hands and a big mess. ‘I know, Ajay. It’s alright.’

Ajay takes his sweater off, lays down his guns, then tugs his shirt off over his head. Sabal hesitates a little more but follows his lead anyways, taking off his jacket and kicking off his shoes beside Ajay’s. He doesn’t take his shirt off but he already feels far too naked. Ajay climbs into bed, something Sabal didn't expect to be so small, and he holds his wrist above him, scarred and tattered, as he sets his watch.

Sabal sits on the edge of the bed. Just sleeping, he tells himself. He’s slept in tighter quarters with more men before it’s simply that, well, as far as he was aware none of those men were interested in trying to bed him. He’s not so sure about that anymore, though. If Ajay could be like this then who else? He tells himself it doesn’t matter, if he doesn’t know then he won’t know, but he still catches himself all too closely watching the men Ajay interacts with now.

He prepares himself mentally for Ajay to press against him, his warm body intimately close and hands where they really don’t need to be, his waist, his hips, his chest. When Sabal lays down, though, he discovers Ajay is already dead asleep. He really does sleep so easily and quickly at that. Though the bed is small, forcing them to lay close together, there’s really not any touching. Ajay is still, positioned weirdly but in a space of his own.

Sabal doesn’t feel like he’s doing this dating thing right.

\- x -

Ajay has nightmares in this house. Sabal can’t sleep.

While he wouldn’t call himself a light sleeper, it’s a whole different story when he’s in a house on a cliff with no one around, dead silent, and Ajay is mumbling and whimpering directly beside him. It’s the only thing he can hear. The wind is still, the trees quiet, no animals, no busy people, the small creek too far away and too quiet.

Ajay too loud.

Sabal just stares into the dark as he listens, most of it too mumbled between his sleeping lips to make out properly. A couple words in Nepali that Sabal isn’t sure Ajay actually knows the meaning of, terms of endearment and love. Labored panting and quiet whimpers. Ajay begging his mother not to leave him, please please don’t leave him.

Sabal never knew his mother, she died when he was very young. Too young to even realise until later that he even had a mother to begin with and too young to really have any strong feelings about it. She was just another woman killed by Pagan Min’s army before she ever had any right to die. His father, well, his father had ‘priorities’ and unsurprisingly, they weren’t Sabal. He died when Sabal was seven but failed to be a father long before that. Ever since he could remember, he looked up to Mohan Ghale.

He remembers when Ajay was born, Sabal was almost eleven. He remembers thinking how badly he already wanted to help and how much more he wanted to make a difference for Mohan’s son like Mohan had for him. He remembers the stupid idea that he had hoped he wouldn’t have to, that Mohan and the Golden Path would take care of Pagan Min and both he and Ajay could grow up just like normal boys. He hasn’t thought about this in a long time.

Sabal reaches over, placing his hand on Ajay’s thigh and touching him softly. Just as easy as he is to sleep, he is to wake.

“Sabal?” Ajay murmurs groggily.

“Yeah,” Sabal replies quietly. Ajay yawns and lets out a small groan of a noise as he adjusts himself and just like that, he’s asleep again. There’s no nightmares this time. Sabal can finally sleep.

Ajay’s already gone when he wakes up. So are the junkies.


	5. Burn It Down

“Amita,” Sabal says. “Have you seen Ajay?” She looks up at him, seemingly considering something for far too long than he'd like.

“Last I heard, I believe he was helping Longinus with something,” she says.

“That weird zealot?” he replies with an arch of the brow.

“Well,” Amita says, flicking her pen between her fingers. “That would be you so-”

“Funny,” Sabal says coldly. “A man like that preaching American mythology has ulterior motives and you know it.”

“And you don't?” she muses. This is definitely not the conversation he came to have with her.

“Ajay?” he repeats pointedly. “When _was_ the last you heard?”

“A couple days ago,” Amita assures as she goes back to her work. “He said he was headed to the Himalayas. Something about a shipment that could help us? He seemed to know what he was doing.” All the way to the Himalayas for the zealot? Ajay perhaps wants to help people a little too much. Still, if he actually gets something that could help, there might be some worth to it after all.

“Tell me the next time you find out he's taking a multi-day trip, will you?” Sabal says mildly. Amita looks up at him again.

“I'm actually surprised, Sabal. I guess you are a ‘man's man’ after all,” she says and Sabal’s skin lurches in violent rebuttal. “Gone a couple days and you just don't know what to do with yourself. I'm sure he would have told you himself if you weren't so busy. I always knew dating you would be a trial.”

“Thought of dating me, have you?” Sabal comments. This, he'll admit, is something he couldn't stomach even for Kyrat.

“Only in my worst of nightmares,” Amita says.

“I suppose the Royal Army really is losing traction if your worst nightmare is dating me,” Sabal says. She smiles at him, that bitter sort of sharp smile that's not unfriendly just sort of how her face looks. “The feeling is mutual.”

“If I hear back from Ajay before you do, I'll be sure to let you know _immediately_ ,” she says sarcastically as she once more resumes her work. “Did you bring me those files?”

“They're not complete but I did, of course,” Sabal says. “Looks like a dhole got a hold of them. I don't know what happened.”

“Oh, _of course_.”

\- x -

As always, Ajay has proven he's a miracle from Kyra. Sabal doesn't know how but Longinus has delivered them a very large gift of weapons from Ajay. They've never been able to convince him to help them before. He'll sell, of course, anyone will sell but no one wants to help. Perhaps Longinus understands the same way Sabal does, though, even if it's in a different way. Ajay is here to help.

Sabal glances over his shoulder at Ajay tiredly rubbing his eyes. Again, they've poised him with a choice and again, he must make it. It's clear this time he can't help them both and there's no way around it. That opium poisons their land and Amita thinks they need it? This isn't the first time they've had this argument but it's the first time action will come from it.

A shipment is ready to go and Ajay is going to go destroy it. This is exactly what Sabal has been making sacrifice after sacrifice for.

“No,” Ajay says rather loudly and they both turn to look at him this time. “No, no, we need to talk about this.”

“There is nothing to talk about, brother,” Sabal assures. “We can not rebuild Kyrat on toxic land and poisoned money.”

“And we can't rebuild Kyrat at all without it,” Amita assures bitterly. They glare at each other across the room. This isn't a discussion, this is action. Ajay knows what he needs to do.

“Look, I don't exactly think turning Kyrat into a drug state is financially stable or safe but Amita’s right,” Ajay says. What? Amita’s _what_? Sabal can't believe this. Amita doesn't look like she believes it, either. “With the water and the land ruined, you need something to support the country on. If this is the only way right now, it wouldn't be smart to burn it down.”

“And we can find something else, Ajay,” Sabal says tensely. Is this not obvious? Of course Sabal wants to assure their future but not like this. “This isn't our way. Once this war is over, we can focus on finding a way to restore Kyrat culturally _and_ financially but right now, those opium fields are killing our land and our people.”

“I'm sure we'd both love to hear how you plan to do that, Sabal. Just pray that something works out? That opium is going to keep people alive!” Amita snaps.

“Stop,” Ajay says. “Drug states are unsustainable, plain and simple. If your best idea is to just keep making opium forever, that's not any better, Amita.” She looks offended and a little surprised, honestly. But this isn't how this is supposed to go. Ajay is supposed to do the right thing, Sabal has done everything to make sure Amita couldn't try to convince him out of it.

Well, not everything.

“That opium builds clinics, Ajay. It builds schools and buys books and _food_ ,” Amita says firmly.

“And brings more war,” Ajay replies. “More soldiers, more death, and more-” He looks around at all the guns they currently room with. “But leaving Kyrat with no way to recover doesn't help, either.” Amita doesn't say anything. Sabal doesn't say anything. These are things they probably knew but between all the fighting, they'd never compromise on. There's no room for compromise between them. Leaving any amount of that opium in their land is ruinous. Too many people already have died for it and trying to reason with that? There is no reason. Ajay sighs and he rubs his head.

“I have to do this now?” he asks.

“Pagan Min is getting ready to ship it,” Amita scoffs sourly. “If we don't do something now, the profits will just go in his pocket. We need to take it.”

“We need to burn it,” Sabal bites. “That's his biggest field and the only way to make sure he never profits off our blood there again is to scorch it to the ground.” Ajay crosses his arms, looking between them for far too long. He sighs again, louder, and shakes his head.

“I need to think about this,” he says. “I'll let you know what I decide when I get there.” Ajay leaves and all they can really do is watch him go. What in Kyrat was that? This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Ajay wasn't supposed to reason with them, he's just supposed to do what's best for Kyrat and opium is _not_ what's best now or ever.

Amita irritably leaves.

It seems ironic now. The scolding comments he had made to Amita about how her lack of child with her late husband spoke mountains to the kind of woman she was. Made in anger, of course, but made nonetheless. Now he has the same problem, doesn't he? He waited, took things slow, and look what that's gotten him now, Amita with her claws in so deep he might actually screw this up.

That's it. Sabal can't hold this off anymore. He's known from the beginning he'd have to but he let himself put it off because he didn't think he could stomach it. And now Kyrat may never be free of that opium blight. Regardless what happens, even if Amita gets her way, Sabal has to make sure Ajay doesn't take her side again. He puts his head in his hands.

“Alright Sabal, I'm at the Tea Factory,” Ajay says. Of course, of course he is. The decision for him was hard, there's no doubt about that, but he still knows what is right.

Maybe Ajay is on to Sabal. Maybe this is a game to him. Sabal doesn't think it matters anymore. Whatever it takes to save Kyrat, he'll do it.

“It's good to have you with us, brother.”

He walks Ajay through burning the fields.

\- x -

Sabal finds himself waiting again except this time, he actually knows something is coming. The caretaker has cleaned up Mohan’s house fairly well, hopefully enough to not stress Ajay out as much, and it looks much better without all the junk everywhere. It could probably do without the huge tent outside but maybe that's just Sabal. He focuses on the state of the house so he doesn't have to focus on anything else.

Anything like the thought that soon Ajay's hands will be all over him or that soon he'll be touching another man's cock. Soon he'll just let Ajay do what he wants and hope it's not as bad as it sounds. It doesn't sound great.

He's aware his knuckles are white.

Sabal hears Ajay outside before anything else and to his benefit, he manages to stop himself from twitching nervously. He needs to stay calm, that's all. When Ajay enters, he stands instinctively.

“Sabal,” Ajay says harshly. “Why didn't you tell me about the statues?”

“Statues?” Sabal replies. “What statues, Ajay?” Ajay's anger evaporates immediately. Sabal takes a step closer. “What statues, Ajay?”

“The Sleeping Saints,” he says. Sabal’s heart flutters nervously. “Amita said-” Again, Ajay stops, quickly realising that this is not at all how he needs to pass information but it's too late for that. Amita told him what?

“What happened to the statues of Kyra, Ajay?” Sabal demands.

“De Pluer was trying to demolish them,” Ajay finally tells him. What? Since when? Amita knew about this and she didn't fucking tell him? “I- didn't get there in time to stop the first one.”

“That _bitch_! Why didn't she tell anyone- no, I know why she didn't tell anyone,” Sabal snarls. “She fucking wanted those statues gone and now she gets to _fucking_ sit back without getting her _fucking_ hands dirty and pretend like she did everything she could while _I_ ‘wasted’ your time on those fucking poppies!”

“Sabal,” Ajay murmurs.

“And you know what, people are going to _fucking_ believe her,” he snaps. “This is what happens. This is what happens when you try to reason with someone like Amita, Ajay. She doesn't care about our culture, she doesn't care about our land. That statue is just the beginning-”

“ _Sabal_ ,” Ajay says, louder this time. “Stop. I'm sure Amita has a reason for this.”

“Of course she does. She always has _reasons_ , brother,” Sabal barks.

“I said stop,” Ajay repeats. He sighs, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. “I'll talk to her later. I'm tired, okay.” This isn't what Sabal came here for. He has to remind himself of that quickly before his temper grabs a hold of him again. He'll deal with Amita later.

“I'm sorry, Ajay,” Sabal says. He's not. He has every reason to be upset about this. “Those statues, you don't realise how important they are to us. You said there was still one left, right?”

“Yeah,” Ajay sighs. “They had already destroyed the first one when I got there.”

“One is better than nothing,” Sabal assures. “Thank you, brother. You did what you could and that's enough.” He steps closer still when Ajay doesn’t and kisses him. As long as he doesn't think about it too much before hand, he's usually fine. It's when he focuses too much on the thought of Ajay's rough lips and the occasional brief touches of the tip of his tongue that Sabal starts to shake. Ajay looks at him quietly and Sabal kisses him again, more firm this time. He tries not to think about it too much. Sabal parts his lips and Ajay responds immediately. Their tongues touching doesn't make him cringe as much as he expected. This really wouldn't be bad if Ajay weren't a man.

They've never kissed like this before, only having exchanged brief touches and nothing more. Sabal doesn't know what to do with his hands but Ajay reaches up to touch his face, kissing him more and harder. Ajay smells like burning wood and opium and gunpowder and more intensely than usual at that. It's almost overwhelming this close.

“Sabal,” he breathes out again, gentler this time. Again, he searches for something. Sabal’s not sure he'll ever know what it is but it clearly doesn't matter much because Ajay is kissing him again. He needs to initiate something more or Ajay will spend all night doing this and Sabal isn't sure how long he can deal with that. He reaches for the zipper of Ajay's jacket, forcing his hands not to tremble.

“Sabal,” Ajay repeats. Yes, Sabal knows what his name is even if Ajay pronounces it not quite right. “It's okay to take things slow.” At least that confirms that he was right and Ajay's just too nice after all. He doesn't have time to take it slow, today was already disaster enough. Those videos he watched linger in his head briefly.

“You made that perfectly clear, brother,” he assures. “I think I've made myself just as clear.” Ajay swallows and he nods. He kisses him again, taking Sabal’s chin more fully in his gloved hand. His tongue tracing his teeth, running along the roof of his mouth, kneading his tongue over and over again, it makes Sabal shiver. He's still stained and speckled with blood and it's hard not to notice right now. Sabal unzips his jacket quickly and he pushes it away before Ajay takes it and tosses it aside. Ajay returns the favor, taking Sabal’s coat by the collar and pushing it off his shoulders and onto the floor.

A very strong part of Sabal wants to run. He expected this, of course, and that's the only thing that stops him. Ajay is bigger than him but not by much, not enough to notice unless one is looking for it, but he's also quicker and stronger and meaner. Even now, Sabal still hasn't seen him fighting or killing in person, not really, but he's seen the carnage Ajay leaves in his wake. Men with their skulls blown out, men dragged and tossed into heaps, men with their throats slashed down to the bone and then some, men with arrows pierced through their armor and helmets.

Sabal has no plans of telling Ajay no, whatever happens he is ready to deal with, but even so, the thought that Ajay could very easily let him leave here in many more parts than he arrived is a little nerve wracking.

Ajay pulls off his gloves, haphazardly sticking them in his back pocket before eagerly kissing Sabal again. He takes a step forward and Sabal takes a step back, an action they repeat slowly until Sabal feels his back against the wall. Oddly enough, having something to stabilize himself on is comforting.

“Shit, hold on,” Ajay murmurs as he pulls away and Sabal can breathe a little easier than he has before. He hurriedly takes the edge of his sweatshirt, pulling it off over his head, and Sabal can't help the way his eyes stick to Ajay's exposed midriff as his shirt clings to his sweater. He has so many scars. Sabal isn't exactly untouched himself but by how well Ajay does his job, this is surprising. He knows Ajay's arms are a mess, more the left than the right, but he didn't expect most of him to be a gnarly, torn mess. Or he did, he guesses, but last time he wasn't paying enough attention.

When Ajay pats his shirt back out, covering himself again, Sabal looks at him.

“What happened, brother?” Sabal asks before he can really stop himself.

“What?” Ajay replies curiously. Sabal lifts Ajay's shirt again, surprised that his hands are so steady, and Ajay looks down for a few seconds too long. “Those are old, don't worry about it.”

“I didn't know you had rabid tigers in America,” Sabal says. Ajay smiles, more forced than amused.

“Something close,” he assures. He moves to kiss Sabal again and Sabal keeps more or less still for him. He's grateful for something to focus on now, though, his hand still lingering in Ajay's shirt. From the military, maybe. It looks like it covers most of him and they do look pretty old and healed over. Sabal has heard of sandstorms that can flay the skin off a person. Ajay pulls away again, looking at Sabal briefly before sighing.

“I didn't think something like that would bother someone like you, Sabal,” he says. Sabal isn't bothered by them. The less he has to think about where this is going, the better though. “Some people I thought were my friends helped me get them,” Ajay explains. “They wanted proof I was tough enough to ‘hang’ with them.”

“They tortured you?” Sabal asks. He doesn't understand.

“No,” Ajay says. “I- got dragged through the street by some, uh, ‘rivals’ after I picked a fight I couldn't win.” The idea of Ajay losing any kind of fight is hard to believe, honestly. “Well, I say I couldn't win.” That sounds more familiar. “When I untied myself and got up, they freaked out and ran off. All the blood, probably.” Sabal supposes Ajay has spent a lot of his life with people wanting him dead.

Sabal kisses him again. He didn't really want to know, honestly, it wouldn't have bothered him not knowing. They can't stop, though, and Sabal doesn't exactly want Ajay in a bad mood, either. He lets go of Ajay's shirt but he still doesn't know what to do with his hands. Ajay's hands on his waist, bare fingers just brushing the skin beneath his shirt, makes Sabal twitch again and suddenly he's all too focused on where Ajay is touching him.

Ajay slips his hands under Sabal’s shirt and Sabal’s breath hitches uncomfortably in his throat at the sudden skin on skin contact. He goes up, though, not down and Sabal instinctively grabs Ajay's arms. Without pushing or pulling or even clenching too hard, Ajay doesn't seem to notice anything wrong. A relief, honestly, Sabal thought his vehement apprehension to being touched by another man would be more obvious. Ajay just keeps kissing him, though, practically leaving Sabal breathless.

He wants to think of anyone else but the only other person he can think of at the moment is Mohan. That is so infinitely worse, thanks. Sabal quite literally can't recall anyone else, not anyone he's worked with, not any of the ladies he's been with, not whoever’s running Shanath- not even the stupid man ruining their country and his stupid little sidekick. He's not sure what's worse, just being here and accepting it's Ajay or the extreme guilt of imagining it's Mohan for some Kyra forsaken reason instead.

The choice is made for him when he's quickly brought back to the now by Ajay moving in closer and Sabal realises that's a dick on his thigh. There is really no good preparation for the feel of another man's hard dick. Sabal squeezes Ajay's arms harder. The hands caressing his shoulder blades and following the curve of his spine quickly become less important. His dick is hot and whenever Ajay moves even a little bit, he can feel it so distinctly. Ajay stops again. He looks over Sabal’s face and Sabal tries to control his heart rate.

“We should stop,” Ajay says. Stop? After all this, he wants to stop? Sabal’s already put so much effort into this and he doesn't want to start from scratch later.

“What's wrong, brother?” Sabal asks, his voice less steady than he would have liked. “We just started.” They have just started. The thought makes Sabal uneasy again. Maybe they should stop.

“You don't seem to be enjoying this,” Ajay murmurs.

“I'm nervous,” Sabal assures hastily. “I've never- with a man before. That's all.” It shouldn't matter how he feels about it, Ajay is clearly fine with this. Sabal tries not to let his eyes stray down to where he's _clearly_ enjoying this.

“It's okay to take things slow, Sabal,” Ajay says again. Slow is what got him into this position in the first place. He's here, he's ready, he's not going to back down now. There's nothing else he can do to prepare himself for this.

“I want to keep going, Ajay,” Sabal says, moving his hands from Ajay's arms to his jeans. He pushes his hand against Ajay's stiff cock, quick enough that he can't hesitate, and making himself jolt a little at the sudden feeling of another man's ready dick in his _hand_. Ajay also jolts.

“ _Okay_ ,” he says quickly, pushing Sabal’s hand away. “Okay. If you're sure. You don't have to be so rough.” Right. Sabal tries to kiss him again mostly so Ajay will just stop talking but Ajay takes a step back. Why is he making this so difficult? “Let's go upstairs to the bed.”

“Yes. Of course,” Sabal replies trying not to sound hesitant. He wonders if he should have prepared more ‘physically’ for this. It was clear Ajay wants him to be the woman so that likely would have been a good idea. Now it's a little late. Once more, Ajay heads up the ladder and Sabal follows a few paces behind. They leave their shoes at the top.

It's nicer in here than he remembers. The caretaker has done a nice job with the place. Ajay sits on the edge of the bed and when Sabal gets close, takes his hand and gestures him down. Sitting side by side like this is somehow way worse than being pinned against a wall. Ajay puts his arm around him, his hand returning to his waist, and leans in to resume kissing. Sabal is getting light headed now, likely thanks to the opium still clinging to Ajay.

Again, he tries to think of anyone else, hell even Amita is a woman, but again, his only alternative ends up being _fucking_ _Mohan_. Why is that the only thing he can come up with to try to make this situation better? Ajay palms his lap now and a shudder goes down Sabal’s back. He's harder than he should be and the gentle, massaging pressure succeeds in getting him more erect. He feels like he's betraying something, himself maybe, by finding pleasure in this.

Ajay moves from kissing his mouth to kissing his jaw and neck. Everything he does is more gentle than Sabal expected, certainly more gentle than he saw in those tapes. He clenches his teeth as he tries not to hyper fixate on Ajay unsnapping the button of his jeans and freeing his semi-hard cock. It's just more directed contact that makes his skin feel like it's on fire. He should do something with his hands.

“Good?” Ajay asks quietly, his hand stroking his stiffening cock slowly but surely.

“Yeah,” Sabal answers without really thinking about it. He hates that it's true. For a moment, he considers simply asking what he should do but he decides against it. He's not helpless and man or not, he's not a virgin, either. Again, he reaches for Ajay's lap, this time more prepared and more careful than the last. Feeling Ajay's dick, throbbing and hot and hard, is still weird, though. Like his own, he thinks, he knows how to handle his own dick obviously. By the small groan he gets in his ear, sending a shiver through him again, his slight pawing is acceptable.

This is going too slow. Sabal’s nerves are bundled up in his gut tight and hot. He turns into Ajay more, ignoring the way his stomach rolls when he does. The words he wants to say stick to his mouth, though, those words he tries to repeat from the tapes. Ajay kisses him on the mouth again but this doesn't unstick them any easier. Like this, Sabal thinks he could come eventually but it doesn't matter if he comes. Ajay will want more.

He can't make himself say it, though. They're a few simple words that, hell, he could reduce down to two; fuck me. It goes against everything he knows. He's not a woman and to be fucked like one? Unacceptable. Let alone to ask, _beg_ , for it. He can't do it.

“Sabal,” Ajay breaths and Sabal’s brain nearly screams in relief. If Ajay just asks they can subvert this whole thing. “Is this okay?” No, not that.

“Yeah,” Sabal answers between kisses.

“Do you- want more?” he asks. Sabal swallows. This would all be a lot easier on both of them if Ajay would just take what he wants. That's what Sabal had been expecting anyways, to end up on his knees on the hard floor with Ajay fucking him again and again until he's finally content. He never likes when things don't go as planned.

“Of course,” he says steadily. “Whatever you want, Ajay.” Sabal is learning that whenever Ajay looks at him like that he's said something wrong. The hand on his dick stops as well and it's a little disappointing.

“That doesn't sound like you want to keep going,” Ajay murmurs.

“Like I said,” Sabal repeats. “I'm just a little nervous.”

“You've really never done this before,” Ajay says. “Like, at all.”

“No,” Sabal says. “I haven't.” This seems to make Ajay a little nervous. He nods though, apparently taking Sabal at face value, and resumes his kissing and stroking. Sabal hadn't realised how tense his legs were until Ajay is coaxing him back against the bed. Those coiled nerves don't get any better when he realises this is it. Ajay kneels over him, one hand holding himself up against the bed via a spot over Sabal’s shoulder and the other pushing the waistband of his boxers down to free his cock.

Sabal isn't sure how he feels about this. Ajay's dick is smaller than his. This is usually pretty satisfying to find out, Sabal has found that he's fairly sizable compared to most men, but instead he's just- he's not sure. He expected something else from the son of Mohan, he guesses. Ajay doesn't particularly seem to care and Sabal quickly realises that he's spent way too long looking at another man's dick already.

Instead, Ajay spits into his hand and reaches down to stroke his own hard cock a few times. Perhaps Sabal misunderstood something somewhere, but he thinks this would be easier with his pants off. He inhales sharply in surprise when Ajay's hot cock bumps against his own. It's certainly not an accident, either. Ajay moves his hips very deliberately, rubbing their dicks together slowly but firmly. A groan slips out before Sabal can stop it, or think about stopping it at any rate.

Ajay's mouth is on his again and Sabal grips the bedsheets just to do _something_ with his hands. The new friction alone is enough to disorientate Sabal but Ajay wraps his hand around them both and Sabal stops thinking. He can't tell if it's him or Ajay moaning and perhaps that's for the better. The white hot nerves coil tighter by the second, over wound and tense. Their cocks are slick with precum and the heat of skin on skin is unbearable.

“Shit,” Ajay curses quietly. “Sabal.” Sabal can't help the way he arches off the bed, stuttering his hips into Ajay's hand as his orgasm washes over him. Immediately the tightness in his belly is gone and he's panting between the touches of lips. Ajay groans above him, rutting his hips feverishly as he climbs to his own finish. He pushes against Sabal’s mouth with bruising force when he does, as if trying to muffle the moan he makes.

Sabal is all too suddenly very aware of the warm, sticky cum on his shirt, both his own and Ajay’s now. He feels himself grimacing again as Ajay kisses him slow and needy in his post-orgasm. It's easier not to think about it when he's aroused but now he just feels weird and guilty for enjoying this. Being able to find pleasure in it makes it easier but he feels betrayed by his own body, too. Ajay moves aside to lay next to him instead. His breathing evens out easier than Sabal’s does and he brushes his fingers over the shaven bits of Sabal’s head.

“How was that?” he asks. It's over? That was it? That- wasn't sex. Mutual masturbation, maybe. Sabal isn't sure how much more touching he can deal with tonight, though, his orgasm leaving him exhausted and spent, so he doesn't want to push it.

“Good,” he answers. He'll just have to try again later. Ajay searches his face again and Sabal sighs a little. “Why do you keep looking at me like that? It can be quite concerning, brother.”

“Concerning?” Ajay repeats. “You look unsatisfied is all.”

“No, no,” Sabal assures at once. “I was expecting more, though. We could have had sex, you know.”

“We did?” Ajay replies curiously.

“Real sex,” Sabal corrects. Ajay gives him that look again.

“I know what you mean and I think we should take it easy, okay?” he says. Easy, not slow this time. Sabal doesn't care the difference. “That's- you've never done this before, we don't need to rush.”

“If you say so, brother,” Sabal agrees even if he disagrees. Regardless, tonight isn't the night. He's uncomfortable now by the sweat that's cooled to a gross sheen across him but not uncomfortable enough to do anything about it. Ajay cards his fingers through his hair more thoroughly and the room is quiet with their breathing. It's quiet for a long time and the only reason Sabal knows Ajay hasn't fallen asleep are the fingers coasting against his scalp gently.

Sabal is stuck between wanting to sleep so he doesn't have to think too much and thinking too much to sleep.

“Are you afraid of me?” Ajay asks. The question catches Sabal off guard.

“What? Why would I be afraid of you?” he replies with a scoff of disbelief. Aside from the fact that he's an organized, efficient killer the likes of which Sabal has only seen in Pagan Min, of course. Just because Ajay is dangerous doesn't mean anything. Sabal knows better by now. Or, at any rate, he wouldn't say that.

“Nothing,” Ajay murmurs. “Pagan Min-”

“You should not listen to Pagan Min, brother,” Sabal snarls irritably. “He's a madman. All he's trying to do is lead you astray.”

“I know,” Ajay says. They don't say anything else.

Sabal has nightmares he doesn't remember.

Ajay's voice wakes him up. He's talking to someone downstairs and then he's gone. Like usual. He's always moving, isn't he?


	6. City of Pain

Ajay's gone after Paul. Sabal isn't sure why he didn't see this coming. He's also not sure why he's surprised that Ajay contacts them very little in the meantime. They can't send in help without knowing what's going on in there. Amita taps on her arm irritably. She's still mad about the opium, of course, and given the circumstances, Ajay could easily get the pictures Sabal knows she wants but she won't ask. Sabal certainly has no need for them and unless she does bite her pride and ask, he's not going to distract Ajay right now.

If it were up to him, he'd have Ajay clear the whole place out. He's capable of it, of wiping out the whole ‘party’ without anyone ever being the wiser and it would assure the safety of more than a handful of slaves he's already saved. It's so tempting but, Ajay's gone into this without their prompt. Obviously someone else has asked him to do this, told him the information he needed to get there, and Sabal can say without a doubt it was Noore.

The party, it's not a lie, but Noore’s intentions? Sabal isn't sure. That's what they're waiting to find out. If this turns out to be a trap, they're ready to rush in with as much help as is needed. He and Amita have come to the conclusion that it's probably easier to cause a commotion until Ajay can get himself free than it is to actually try to save him themselves. They don't want to get in his way, either.

Sabal can still feel Ajay's hands on his back and his hard cock on his thigh. He wants to think of anything else.

“Why didn't you tell me about the statues of Kyra?” he demands sharply. Amita scoffs.

“You have no interest in information, Sabal,” she reminds him just as sharp. Sabal bangs his fist on the table hard enough to shake it.

“You let that statue get destroyed because Ajay wouldn't help you get your ‘intel’?” he sneers. “Or maybe because he wouldn't play your little drug peddling game like you wanted. Do you have any idea how old those fucking statues were? A huge part of Kyrat is gone now because of you!”

“Because of me?” Amita snaps and she lets out a sour bark of a laugh. “You're the one who just _couldn't_ wait to see our future go up in flames. Maybe if you'd spend more time paying attention instead of trying to _fuck_ Ajay to your side, you'd have any resemblance of an idea of what's going on around here.” Sabal stands violently and Amita puffs herself up like a snake ready to strike.

“I _knew_ it. You let that statue get destroyed so you could put the blame on me! You really think people are going to buy that, Amita? You think _anyone_ is going to believe that I _ever_ would have sent Ajay to the tea factory if I knew De Pluer was going after the Sleeping Saints?” he bites. “You're delusional.”

“You really think _that's_ what this is about?” Amita replies coldly. “You're so dense, Sabal. And even if it was? Your _boyfriend_ believed it, didn't he?” Sabal’s skin jumps. He hates that and she knows know. She knows too much.

“I see what this is about now,” Sabal says and Amita gives him a sharp look. “You're mad you didn't know something. You're mad you didn't know I like men and now you _know_ you can't get your _claws_ into Ajay. Does that throw a wrench into your plan, Amita? Can't destroy our culture without Ajay’s help, _Amita_?”

“You _don't_ like men, Sabal,” Amita hisses back. “And one day, Ajay’s going to find out and when he does, he's going to be absolutely heartbroken. Have you seen the way he looks at you? Disgusting. Do you really think he'll keep being your little puppet after that? Do you really think you can keep this up, _Sabal_?” How Ajay looks at him? What's that supposed to mean? She's trying to play him into a trap, she always is.

“Really?” Sabal replies mildly. “If I don't like men then I guess last night didn't happen after all.” Amita looks him over, suspicious and judging.

“You didn't,” she says. Sabal doesn't say anything. Amita laughs. “You know, Sabal, I'm almost impressed. Taking this as far as to actually have sex with another man? _If_ you even did. Was it as good as you imagined it being with Mohan?” Sabal’s face falls. “No? How- _unfortunate_.”

“Ajay's coming up the road!” someone interrupts them suddenly. “He has De Pluer!“ He and Amita exchange looks again, charged with the knowledge that this argument is far, far from over. They head outside.

\- x -

Sabal lets himself into the communal house where Ajay has disappeared off to not long ago. He expected to find him sleeping, that's usually what he does when he comes to these places, but he's still wide awake and busy. At least, he's busy. Ajay sits at the table, wrapping arrows in flammable cloth to use later but he's staring off into the distance. Though Sabal knows it's untrue, it doesn't even seem like Ajay notices him come in.

“You did good work today, brother,” Sabal says. Ajay doesn't say anything. He didn't talk to Amita did he? This isn't about last night? “Ajay?”

“Yeah, thanks Sabal,” Ajay murmurs. He's distracted.

“What's wrong, Ajay?” Sabal asks, putting a hand on Ajay's shoulder gently. “Something is bothering you, what is it?” Ajay sighs.

“It's nothing,” he assures. Sabal isn't believing that, of course.

“Ajay,” he repeats.

“I'm just thinking about some stuff De Pluer said,” he finally admits. First it was Pagan Min and now De Pluer? Surely Ajay knows they're just saying whatever they think he wants to hear, right? Or, in some cases, whatever gets him to doubt himself and the Golden Path.

“You shouldn't listen to De Pluer of all people, Ajay,” Sabal urges. Ajay puts the arrow he's working on down and rubs his head with both hands tiredly.

“I know,” he agrees. “I know. He was right, though. I wanted to try to help Noore’s family. I didn't even know their names. I don't- I don't know anything about Noore, even. She just looked so distressed and upset and I- bought it. I could have been walking into a trap.”

“You were trying to do something good,” Sabal says, taking another chair to sit close to Ajay. “No one can blame you for that, brother. Everything turned out okay, anyways.”

“Noore’s family is dead,” Ajay says. Sabal assumed as much, of course, but he's still a little disappointed to learn. Noore’s a killer but having her on their side, even if temporarily, could have proved worth withholding judgement. “They've probably been dead a while. I- I knew that. Not ‘officially’ but what I knew about De Pluer, I knew they weren't alive. Criminal profiling isn't worth much but with men like that? It's rarely wrong.”

“You couldn't have known that,” Sabal promises.

“I offered to help just so I could have a reason to kill,” he murmurs. Sabal doesn't actually know what to say to this. Ajay looks up at him, a different sort of concern etched into his face. “All I've done since coming here is kill people, Sabal. All I did in the military was kill people. I joined a _fucking_ _gang_ and-”

“Ajay,” Sabal says. “You _help_ people. Don't you see the changes you've made here? You've _saved_ so many people, brother, do not feel bad for putting down some rabid, blood thirsty mercenaries.”

“I don't know anything about this country. I don't know anything about your fight, or Mohan, or your ‘culture’. I knew even _less_ when I got here but it didn't matter because I could kill people. Apparently it's the only thing I'm good at,” Ajay says irritably and he picks up one of his arrows to look at the sharp tip. “I don't know why I came here.”

“I can teach you about our culture, brother,” Sabal urges. “If that's the problem, all you need to do is ask. I'd be happy to teach you.”

“No, Sabal,” Ajay says tensely. “That's not the problem.” Sabal takes his arm gently, making him put the arrow down and face him properly. It's instinctual, he leans in to kiss Ajay softly and Ajay seems to relax a little.

“What's the problem, then?” he urges quietly. Ajay sighs again and he leans forward. Sabal expects another kiss but instead, Ajay rests his head on Sabal’s chest. It's weirdly intimate.

“I don't know if I'm doing this for selfish reasons,” he murmurs. “I don't know why I'm doing any of this.”

“You're doing this to put Ishwari at rest where she asked,” Sabal reminds him. Ajay swallows. “A shrine in the north. To help Ishwari, you help the Golden Path along the way. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“I've done a lot more than what was necessary to get me there,” Ajay scoffs.

“Saving hostages?” Sabal says. “Is that what you feel bad about, brother? For saving those men? Removing Pagan’s filth from the radio? Making south Kyrat safe again from the Royal Army? Delivering the wrath of Kyra for those who can not do it themselves? Maybe burning that poisonous plight on our land?”

“No,” Ajay says softly.

“Does anyone around here call you a killer, Ajay?” Sabal asks.

“No,” Ajay says even softer.

“You're a savior to these people, son of Mohan. We're not afraid of you or what you do because you do it for the good of Kyrat. Just because you are good at killing doesn't mean you are a killer. You want to know who's afraid of you? Paul. Pagan Min. _The Royal Army_ is afraid of you, Ajay, and do you want to know why?” Sabal urges. “Because Paul thought he was safe last night and you proved him wrong. If he wasn't safe, who is? _Pagan_ is afraid of you and they'll say whatever they think will make you slow down.”

Ajay sits up straight again and looks at Sabal with that mute, expressionless searching again. Sabal can't help but remember that stupid comment Amita made at him.

“You're right,” Ajay says. “I know I'm making a difference and I know whatever the outcome, it's going to be better than what Pagan Min has done here.”

“You're helping make Kyrat pure again, Ajay,” Sabal promises. “You have done more for Kyrat and her people than anyone could have hoped for.”

“Thanks, Sabal,” Ajay murmurs. “It- it really helps hearing that.”

“Of course, brother,” Sabal says. Ajay kisses him again. Amita can snarl her teeth and make her threats all she wants but it's too late. It's so obvious how much Ajay wants to help people and Amita will sacrifice lives for intel. It's not Ajay's way.

“I was worried about dating you,” Ajay admits. Sabal looks at him questioningly as Ajay goes back to his arrows. “I thought you would just see me as a replacement for my father.” Sabal doesn't have a thing for Mohan! “Or just, I don't know, wanted to make sure I sided with you or something.”

“Not at all, Ajay,” Sabal assures.

“Yeah,” Ajay murmurs and he smiles, just a little. “I'm glad I was wrong.”

Why does Sabal feel bad?

\- x -

They need Noore out of the way. With De Pluer handled, the only thing between them and taking the bridge leading into the north is her. Neither he or Amita have seen Ajay in a couple days to talk to him, though. He's apparently been out and about cleaning up some loose ends around Kyrat, making sure none of De Pluer’s men are still around, saving people from wild animals, ectera ectera.

It's nice but Sabal wishes Ajay had a little more focus sometimes. All he's really doing is putting off having to tell Noore her family is dead. Sabal supposes he can't blame Ajay for that. Of course, he also doesn't have to tell her. Perhaps it would be best if she died not knowing what happened to her family? Surely Ajay knows there's no way around this; Noore can't be allowed to continue.

The radio is more active, lately.

“Everyone in the south knows it by now, Ajay Ghale, hero of Kyrat, and Sabal uh, last name, are dating! Cute couple, don't get me wrong, but I know we all just can't help but wonder: is something up? Sabal may be handsome and charming and suave and a skilled combatant and leader but is he gay?”

The radio is too active, maybe. Sabal can think of more than one person who can mind their own business.

“Now Ajay and I, come on, we're best buds! He's told me himself, sorry ladies, he's strictly into dudes. Maybe if things don't work out with Sabal, he and I- ah just kidding Sabal! Lucky man to have someone like Ajay! All the people are asking, though, Sabal, is he gay? Is Sabal, the leader of the Golden Path, actually gay? Do I want to spread rumors? No, of course not, but does this sound fishy? A little, I'll be honest here. Everyone knows Sabal and Amita fight over _everything_ , could it be Sabal is using Ajay to get his way? After all, if the son of the great Mohan Ghale believes in Sabal, he must be doing something right, am I right?”

Someone _really_ needs to mind their own business.

“I just find it weird, you know? Before now, Sabal was all Tarun Matara and no romantic relationships, verification pending, _I_ thought there _had_ to be something going on between him and Amita, am I right? Now all of a sudden we find out he's into men? What, no Kyrati men were good enough for him before? People, of course, have said to me ‘Rabi Ray, of course Sabal is gay, he was in love with Mohan, obviously’ and I say to that, fair point. Regardless, I think we can all agree if anything, even someone like Sabal couldn't break the heart of some poor, kind hearted murder machine like Ajay, right? I mean, no offence to Ajay, but I'd hate to be the one to break up with that.”

If Sabal finds out Amita’s been talking to this ‘free’ radio sham of a show, he's going to be mad.

“So good luck, Sabal! Happy wishes for the cute boyfriends! And if anyone out there is worried about, you know, dating other men or dating other women or _whatever_ just remember, _Ajay Ghale_ , savior of Kyrat, _and_ the great leader of the Golden Path, Sabal, both are men who like men, okay? And they're great! And if you like men and women? Well you're just like Rabi! This is Radio Free Kyrat and I'm Rabi Ray Rana!”

“I think I understand why Pagan took control of the radio,” Sabal grumbles to himself.

“What's wrong, Sabal? A little too close to home?” Amita asks in that sharp, accusing tone she rarely _doesn't_ have with him. Sabal turns the radio off as she comes in, irritably rolling up the plans he was working on.

“What do you want now, Amita?” he asks. He's not in the mood to play this game with her right now.

“The brick factory,” she says without hesitation. Sabal sneers irritably. They've had this conversation enough already.

“I thought we decided to let Ajay decide,” he replies. “We're _never_ going to see eye to eye, Amita.”

“And you're going to tell Ajay to obey you, yes, I know,” Amita scoffs. “And if he refuses, you just get down on your knees and-”

“ _Amita_ ,” Sabal snarls. “ _What_ do you _want_?”

“That factory is our last chance of having _anything_ left to help restore Kyrat when we're free and you want to burn that, too, Sabal. What do you think I want?” she snaps back. Sabal stands, banging both hands on the table as he does.

“We can't ‘restore’ Kyrat on drugs, Amita,” he answers sharply. “I'm not discussing this with you again.”

“It's not a discussion when all you do is want your way,” Amita spits at him. “Ajay burned the fields already, there's no bringing that back, just let it go! Keeping that brick factory up and running gives us clinics and schools, you _snake_. As soon as you share this ‘better idea’ with the rest of us, the sooner you get your way. Oh, wait, you don't _have_ a better idea!”

“Not to share with you,” Sabal assures sourly.

“You really think you can just ‘cut’ me out of the Golden Path because you've lowered yourself to sleeping with ‘the son of Mohan’?” Amita bites. “You destroy that factory, and I swear Sabal-”

“What?” Sabal demands. “You'll do _what_ , Amita? Try to convince Ajay of the ‘truth’? Give him your little pity party show? How's that worked out for you so far?” Amita glares at him. “Because all you've really seem to have done so far is show how you _really_ feel about people like Ajay and I. I wonder how Ajay would feel to learn that about you.”

“You _don't_ like _men_ , Sabal,” Amita sneers at him again. “I don't _have_ a problem with ‘people like you’, I have a problem with _you_.”

“I have work to do,” Sabal says dismissively. Amita grabs his arm hard and he yanks away twice as rough.

“The difference between me and you, Sabal? I actually care what happens to Ajay. When this is all over, then what? You're just going to leave him in the dirt like some play thing you're done with? Kyra as witness, you'll get what you deserve, Sabal, don't forget that,” Amita tells him. She's mad. This isn't surprising or new. “Ajay's going to find out what you really are and when he does, I _hope_ he's not forgiving.”

Sabal leaves.


	7. Cultural Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !Canonical self harm in first section (burning)

“Ajay?”

“What happened?”

“Oh, move out of the way. He doesn't look right.”

Sabal makes his way through the murmuring crowd curiously. He's not exactly pleased in what he finds. It's definitely Ajay, though. He's sort of stumbling his way through the street with blood just flowing out the front of him. Both of his arms are covered in blood, seemingly his own for once, and everything he leans against leaves a handprint in his wake. He doesn't look all together conscious though, likely from all the blood loss.

“Ajay, what happened?” Sabal asks urgently, trying to move to his side. Ajay doesn't even notice him, simply continuing his way to the communal house sluggishly and trailing blood.

“ _Ajay_ ,” he repeats. When he reaches out to touch Ajay's arm, however, Ajay lashes out at him hard. Sabal is disoriented by the sudden, and hard, strike to the face that leaves blood across his features. Ajay stares at him for a long time and too baffled to do anything else, Sabal stares back. His pupils are completely shot and his eyes don't focus like they should. He's high? On _what_?

“Sabal,” Ajay murmurs, not a question but a fact. He continues on his way. “Need stitches still. Hurts.” He's not talking to Sabal, either, but rather himself. Not fully sure what to do about this, Sabal just follows him into the house and closes the door behind them. Ajay needs serious attention but it doesn't look like he's going to make that easy judging by the blood on Sabal’s face.

“Safe. Theoretically. Technically, not so much,” Ajay continues to murmurs as he finally collapses on the bed and moves his arm from his stomach. Sabal tries to get a good look without getting too close. There's too much blood to see properly but the injury is still bleeding profusely. It's either fresh or deep. Ajay closes his eyes.

“Ajay,” Sabal says sharply and Ajay awakens quickly.

“Don't sleep,” he says. “No, no, never sleep. You'll die. Just like mom, you'll die in your sleep. More blood, though.” Ajay takes his jacket, hoodie, and shirt off with minimum trouble and looks at his own wound now.

“Ajay, let me help you, brother,” Sabal urges. Ajay still doesn't seem to hear or even notice him even as he gets close to the edge of the bed. Instead, he takes several matches and strikes them all at once. The angry crackling is quickly smothered out when Ajay pushes them into his shredded wrist. Is that how he gets those? What in Kyra-?

“Adrenaline,” Ajay murmurs. “Awake. Stay awake. Sleep and you'll die. Sleep and you'll die. Just like mom. Worthless. Haven't done anything.” High or not, he's clearly more than capable of functioning. Without any help from Sabal, he takes the first aid kit and begins to clean his wound on his own. It doesn't seem like a good idea to interrupt him for both of their sakes so Sabal just grabs a chair to sit at his bedside. He prays quietly but he's more focused on what Ajay is doing- and saying.

“Hurts. Always hurts. Drug doesn't work. Useful information. Don't sleep,” he rattles on. Sabal tries to piece together what he can but it's so disjointed and muddled, he can't really understand. Ajay threads a needle with his bloody fingers. “Stitch. Never stitched myself. First time for everything. Can't die yet. No, don't sleep. Mom would be disappointed. Mom was always disappointed. Can't blame her. Always in trouble. Always in fights.” With surprising accuracy, Ajay works on stitching his deep cut wound closed. It looks like someone got him with a khukri and good at that. Sabal has to withhold the urge to do it for him, that he's in no way in his right mind to do this, but he doesn't relish a needle in his hand or face.

“Disappointed everyone, really. Disappointed the gang, disappointed the army, disappointed mom. Don't sleep. Don't tell Sabal. Just more disappointment.” Does he really think Sabal would be ‘disappointed’ he got injured of all things? Hell, Sabal is actually surprised this is the first time he's been seriously injured. “Don't tell Sabal. Don't tell Sabal. Don't tell Sabal.” He just keeps repeating it now, diligently working on fixing his wound with his own two steady hands.

“Ajay,” Sabal murmurs softly. Ajay looks at him and Sabal jolts.

“Liar,” Ajay says then he goes back to sewing. What? Sabal’s heart is in his throat now. He doesn't know what to do about any of this but that sure felt like an omen if there ever was. Ajay stops talking, finishes his stitches then cleans them again. He looks around wildly as he does, almost as if following something not actually there. Incredibly, he even manages to wrap the wound himself, too.

“There. Fixed. Nothing ever wrong. Don't tell Sabal,” he repeats again. Sabal sighs. Whatever Ajay is on, it's fucked him up good. Maybe whatever got a cut off on him also managed a little more than Ajay bargained for. This reeks of Yuma except Ajay is still alive and Yuma surely wouldn't be down this far. Ajay closes his eyes again but this time, Sabal lets him sleep. He needs it.

Of course he's okay so Sabal isn't sure why his heart still feels like it's in his stomach.

Ajay sleeps for a long while, longer than he usually sleeps. Sabal checks to make sure he's still breathing but ultimately decides this is probably good for him. He positions a soldier next to the door to make sure no one bothers Ajay while he steps out to have a smoke and bring back some food. He finally does awaken when Sabal returns, perhaps at the smell of food.

His eyes, for the most part, seem to be back to normal and his features once more regain their alert, watchful expression. Ajay looks at the bandages on his stomach and then the blood he's left everywhere before looking at Sabal questioningly. He doesn't remember any of that?

“What happened?” he asks. No, he doesn't.

“You tell me, brother,” Sabal replies. “You wandered back here with a gaping stomach wound, muttering to yourself, and passed out. What were you doing out there?”

“I, uh,” Ajay murmurs slowly as he thinks. “I was helping Yogi and Reggie with something. I don't remember what happened after that. I must have blacked out.”

“You don't remember hitting me in the face when I tried to help you, either?” Sabal comments.

“No,” Ajay says with a sigh. “I'm so sorry, Sabal.”

“It's- okay. I'm more worried about you, Ajay,” Sabal assures. He sits beside the bed, taking Ajay's hand and turning it over to show the face of his watch- and the fresh burns of his wrist. “These are your doing?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Ajay agrees without really thinking about it. “I learned it back home running with, uh, some gangs. Sharper, insignificant pain helps ease more severe pain.”

“Insignificant?” Sabal repeats, holding Ajay's arm rather pointedly. “This isn't ‘insignificant’ looking, brother.” Ajay takes his arm back rather roughly, turning his wrist away from Sabal and flexing his fingers.

“It's just skin,” he says. He picks up his bloody and torn clothes to look at instead. Sabal isn't done talking about this but he feels now isn't the time for that particular discussion.

“You also kept saying stuff about dying in your sleep like your mother,” Sabal says. Ajay's face pales a little. “Is that why you never sleep long?” He doesn't say anything. “And something about being a disappointment? Does that ring a bell, brother? Or not to tell me? Would you have really not told me about this?”

“Sabal,” Ajay sighs out. “It's not like that. That stuff- I didn't know what I was saying.” Sabal wonders if it would make a difference if he mentions Ajay looked him straight in the face and called him a liar.

“But you seemed to know what you were doing, brother,” he assures. “You cleaned and stitched your wound yourself. I couldn't get near you.” Ajay looks at his bandages again. “Ajay, if there's something wrong, you know you can talk to me. We're- dating.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replies distantly. “I'm alright, though, really. It's just stress and- whatever Yogi and Reggie gave me.”

“Gave you? What did they give you?” Sabal asks. Those are the two junkies in the tent, aren't they? They work for Noore. Perhaps he should make sure the housekeeper is keeping a closer eye on those two.

“I was helping them test something, I don't know,” Ajay murmurs. “Whatever it was, it didn't work obviously. If I was ever seriously injured, I'd tell you, Sabal. There's no reason I wouldn't.” Except he thinks Sabal would consider him a disappointment.

“If you say so,” Sabal replies. “You should get some rest. I'll have one of the ladies sew your clothes up for you.”

“No, I'll do it,” Ajay says. “My stomach hurts too much to sleep.” Like his mother.

“You truly worry me sometimes, Ajay,” Sabal sighs.

Liar.

\- x -

Amita wants to hit the brick factory first. Sabal doesn't.

He argues that Ajay has taken too long to tell Noore anything and soon she'll realise her family is dead and try to flee. Sabal doesn't really believe this. He just needs more time, though. Last time was a mistake and this time, he's not going to let it happen again. Before they can pose the decision on Ajay, Sabal needs to make sure they're on the same page.

Amita forces his hand. Sabal doesn't know why he's surprised, it's the only way she has a chance anymore with Ajay firmly on Sabal’s side. She gives him the whole ‘first woman of the Golden Path’ speech as if anyone's buying that anymore. Anyone aside from Ajay, obviously. On the brightside, this isn't as time sensitive and Ajay is still trying to put off having to approach Noore.

On the downside, anything Sabal does between now and then is going to seem suspicious. He still thinks he, somehow, got off lucky last time. That being said, he's never had to do anything suspicious for people to be suspicious of him- mostly people too blind to see Amita’s ideas will never go anywhere good for their country.

He always seems to get to Ajay's house before Ajay. Sabal supposes that's because Ajay is distracted by every little beck and cry for help, though. Most people of the Golden Path can handle things themselves and for the most part, there's plenty of them around now a days to help civilians as well. Even if they should be helping themselves by simply joining in the effort to protect their country.

Sabal doesn't wait that long. As soon as Ajay comes through the door and realises he's waiting, he sighs loudly.

“Sabal,” he says as he drops his bag by the door and rubs his eyes with his fingers. “No. No. You need to leave. I told you and Amita both, I'm going to think about it and I'll tell you what I decide when I do.”

“I don't want to talk about the brick factory, Ajay,” Sabal says. Ajay looks at him skeptically. “Amita and I have argued about it enough and honestly, I don't wish to do it anymore. Whatever you decide- we've both made our intentions clear, brother. I didn't think it was a crime to, ah, spend time with you.”

“Sabal,” Ajay says and he sighs again.

“If you want me to leave, you only need to ask,” Sabal assures.

“No,” Ajay replies tiredly. “It's a long walk down.” Sabal smiles faintly. “I'm going to go wash off then I'm going to take a nap.”

“That sounds like a good idea, brother,” he agrees. Ajay looks at him, long and unwavering, but he just sighs again and leaves his stuff inside to rinse off in the river. As Sabal assumed, now he can't do anything without looking suspicious. This was Amita’s intention, obviously, and she's more than gotten her way. It's not the first time she's tried to impede him, it won't be the last either, and it's not going to stop him.

Sabal heads up the ladder. This place seems a little more cluttered than last time, several little trinkets and miscellaneous items scattered around whatever flat surface is available through the room. Has Ajay been collecting these things? It seems odd when there's such a varied assortment of things, most of them with no use and little value. He sits at the edge of the bed and as he does, knocks something with his foot. Quickly, he grabs the urn before it tips over and sighs in relief before he fully realises what's happened.

“Kyra, I don't think I'll ever see Ajay as mad as I would if I knocked you over,” he murmurs to himself as he picks the urn up to examine. Sabal runs his thumb over the name engraved on the front and it's an odd feeling, knowing he holds the last Tarun Matara in his hands. He knows she died in a hospital but he doesn't actually know what from. He supposes he never bothered to ask. She's so small now. Is she really in here?

“Sabal?” Ajay says. Sabal looks at him questioningly. He hadn't heard him come back inside let alone up the ladder. Ajay approaches him and rather harshly, takes the urn out of his hands. Sabal releases at once, moving his hands to safety.

“Sorry, brother, I meant no disrespect,” he assures softly.

“No, it's- fine. Just- don't,” Ajay tells him blandly. He quickly tucks the urn back into a nook between the bed and wall where it fits fairly well, mostly unseen. “It's not you. Mom, uh, she's had a bit of a weird journey since being back here, too.” Sabal can imagine. He'd been carrying Ishwari around for a while when he first arrived. It's unclear if he feels better or worse leaving her here. Ajay sits beside him on the bed, his hair still damp and he's clean like he usually is again.

“You're doing a good thing for Ishwari,” Sabal promises. “She'd be proud.” Ajay laughs bitterly.

“You always think you know what I want to hear, don't you Sabal?” he replies.

“Ajay,” Sabal murmurs, touching his shoulder gently. Ajay sighs. “You're mad at me? Why?”

“I'm not- I'm not mad at you,” he says a little softer now. “Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind.” Sabal rubs his back and Ajay seems to relax a little. There's already a lot of pressure on him and Amita trying to yank him in a completely different direction isn't helping. He tries to change the conversation.

“After you've done what you've come here for, what are you going to do?” Sabal asks. Ajay looks at him quietly for a moment, always searching never finding. “I've been thinking about what happens after this war is over and I-”

“I don't know, Sabal,” he says. “If I haven't already, I'm helping finish Pagan Min off. After that? I don't know.”

“Do you want to go back to the States?” he asks.

“ _I don't know_ , _Sabal_ ,” Ajay repeats more firmly. Sabal doesn't say anything. “It's not like there's anything there for me anymore. I don't want to talk about this right now, okay?”

“Of course,” Sabal agrees. There's a brief moment of silence and Ajay stares at his hands, picking at some of the twisted scars there. Besides the burns, Sabal can see cuts and scrapes, too. It's hard to tell if these are self inflicted too or a case of Ajay trying to shield himself from shrapnel. He puts himself in so much danger. Sabal gently puts his hand over Ajay's before he makes himself bleed again. “The radio keeps talking about us, you know.”

“I know,” Ajay sighs, lowering his hands into his lap. “I asked him to tone it down but, uh,” he sounds amused for once. “I don't think he has a filter anymore. Rabi Ray is okay, he just talks a lot.”

“Perhaps more than he should,” Sabal agrees and Ajay nods without argument. “Do you believe what he says about me, Ajay?”

“That you're not gay?” Ajay replies. Sabal laughs a little.

“‘Rabi Ray Rana’ has many things to say about Amita and I but that's what you're concerned about?” he asks. Ajay opens his mouth briefly to reply before laughing quietly himself.

“I guess that makes my priorities pretty clear, doesn't it?” he says. “Listen, Sabal, I don't actually know that much about you _or_ Amita or even what either of you are actually doing for the Golden Path and Kyrat but I- there's not exactly a lot of time to sit down and go through everything with a fine comb. One head always lies and the other, always the truth. Except instead both heads lie a lot, usually at the same time, and everything's on fire. And _don't_ tell me you haven't lied to me.”

“I feel like replying to that is a little self incriminating no matter how I respond,” Sabal murmurs. Ajay laughs again.

“Amita wants change and you want culture. You want religious preservation and Amita wants financial stability. Amita sets her goals in the future and your head is in the now,” Ajay lists off. Sabal never thought Ajay was stupid, quiet maybe, but never stupid. “I don't exactly agree with Amita’s methods but I- religion and I don't exactly get along, remember? That's sort of, uh, your whole- thing.”

“Because you like men, right?” Sabal asks. “That's why you don't like religion.”

“That's why ‘religion’ doesn't like me,” Ajay says. “That definitely doesn't help, though.”

“There's nothing in Kyra’s text about- this,” Sabal assures him. “If this is the way she makes a person, this is the way she wants them. The Kyrat I want-”

“Don't, Sabal,” Ajay says. “I appreciate the effort but really, don't. Between you and Amita, I have a pretty clear idea of what the two of you ‘want’ and right now, I can't see myself in either of your ‘futures’.”

“I see you don't want to talk about this right now, either,” Sabal says. Ajay gives him a mute smile that assures he's correct. “I think that's fair. I don't want to try to convince you of anything if you think I'm just going to lie to you. Being in Kyrat, seeing what we're doing, I guess that speaks louder than anything Amita or I could say.”

“Yeah,” he agrees softly.

“Mohan-” Sabal begins but again, Ajay stops him.

“I really don't want to talk about Mohan, either,” Ajay assures him irritably. “Or my mother for that matter. Amita seems to think she knows what my mother would want better than I would. And no, I don't want to hear what you have to say about that, Sabal.” Sabal sighs a little but he nods.

“Alright, brother,” he murmurs. “I understand. What _do_ you want to talk about?”

“I really don't,” Ajay admits. Sabal isn't surprised, honestly. “I just want to take a nap right now, okay?”

“Okay,” Sabal says softly. Ajay moves up onto the bed, moving his pillows around minutely before settling down. Once he's down, Sabal joins him, trying not to let the intimacy of laying face to face like this get to him too much. He closes his eyes and shortly after, he feels Ajay's fingers on his face, tracing the scar on his chin. Sabal opens his eyes again but Ajay is focused distinctly on his scar.

“Thanks,” he murmurs and before Sabal can ask for what, “for being around. It helps.”

Sabal’s heart flutters awkwardly.

\- x -

It's been years since Sabal has slept easy but usually it's not for reasons like this. He's not unfamiliar with nightmares, either, but again, they usually aren't whatever this is. Sleeping is usually easier when he doesn't dream.

There's no telling how he got here but Ajay is kissing him, as he's so prone to doing. It's not the usual light touches, however, but instead with open mouths and the touching of tongues. Sabal knows it's Ajay but for the brief moment they stop to catch their breath, it's fucking Mohan that pulls away.

_He doesn't have a thing for Mohan._

Mohan is speaking to him but Sabal can't hear him clearly. His voice is so _familiar_ , though, still stuck in Sabal’s head from nearly two decades ago. He gets the general idea. You like men now? When did you become so misguided? Sabal wants to argue, that he's _not_ misguided, but Mohan is kissing him again. It's weird in a different way than it is with Ajay. This is unpleasant and Mohan is rough and aggressive with him, all forward and no give. When he stops, Sabal is hot around the collar and panting.

Mohan, he says but it's not anymore. It's about now that Sabal gets the feeling something is wrong and it's not just the disappointed, borderline upset face Ajay makes. He says he knew it, he's just a replacement for his father. Again, Sabal wants to argue, that Ajay could never be his father, but again he's silenced with a kiss, less intense but just as smothering. Sabal doesn't know what to do with his hands but it's a moot point when Ajay grabs them, suddenly behind him and suddenly pressing his lips to his neck.

Then they're both there and Sabal’s mind is disoriented by seeing both Ghales in the same place. He's very confused but he doesn't have much time to be. They're kissing and touching and saying things to him that Sabal can't reply to. It feels like there's too many hands but always the right amount of mouths. Teeth nip at his throat, at the spot behind his ear, against his jaw, and Sabal can't tell whose is who anymore. He's not sure he could in the first place.

They're arguing. Actually, they're not, they're just saying wildly different things. Sabal isn't sure who to listen to. Ajay's voice is clearer, easier to understand, like it's right in his ear but quiet, telling him it's okay. _He's_ okay. Mohan sounds muffled and distance but his words hold so much bite, asking how Sabal could get so confused, how he let things get this far.

“Sabal,” Ajay says. Sabal blearily opens his eyes as his arm is touched much more firmly. Flittering wisps of his dream leak through his fingers as he awakens. He tries to hold onto the memory briefly before quickly letting go; Ajay's lips on the back of his neck and Mohan's teeth in his lips as they simultaneously take his-

“Sabal,” Ajay repeats and Sabal opens his eyes again, more concrete. The remains of his dream drift away easily and he looks around before looking back at Ajay. “Are you okay?” It takes a moment for Sabal to realise he feels weird because he's in a cold sweat. He adjusts uncomfortably, trying to ease his still rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah,” he finally answers. “Just a bad dream, brother. It happens.”

“A bad dream?” Ajay repeats. “Are you sure?” Sabal glances at him minutely. “You kept moaning my name, is all. Well, and you're hard.” Was he? He doesn't remember enough of his dream to really recall why he would be doing such a thing. Sabal adjusts again, this time to try to hide his obvious erection.

“Maybe not a bad dream,” he murmurs. Normally he sleeps on his own and normally, he can take care of problems like this as they ‘arise’ but he doesn't exactly want to excuse himself for this. He doesn't exactly have anywhere to go, anyways. Considering how long it's been since he's relieved himself, this isn't shocking. What happened with Ajay was a lot of anticipation for nothing really, and he doesn't count it.

“Do you- want some help?” Ajay offers. Sabal gets the slightest recollection of Mohan's hands on his thighs, his very inner thighs, and a familiar spike of guilt stabs him in the stomach. He quickly banishes this thought from his mind.

“I- if you’re offering, I wouldn’t refuse,” Sabal assures. He’s still drowsy, awake but not fully aware, his mind still far away and his heart still racing in his chest. He doesn’t actually think about his response too much or at least, he doesn’t overthink his response like he’s so accustomed to doing. Ajay moves closer to him in the bed as if they weren’t already close enough, and in the dark, Sabal can only really see the slightest of his outline.

Without being able to see particularly well, the hand that touches him draws all of his attention. Ajay's hand drifts down his chest and stomach until reaching the waistband on his pants. He pushes them down beneath his hard cock and Sabal shudders as Ajay slowly strokes him. This wasn't exactly how he planned on going about this but perhaps this is better. Sabal makes an attempt to reach for Ajay's lap as well but before he gets the chance, Ajay is moving again.

Not what he had planned _at all_. Ajay moves and Sabal catches a small glimpse of him just briefly before he feels Ajay’s hot breath against his cock. He jolts, automatically moving his hands to Ajay's head but stills himself from doing anything more as Ajay runs his tongue along his shaft. Sabal grunts, his eyes fixated where he can't see Ajay nearly enough to tell what he's going to do- even if he can assume. His heart, briefly having started to ease, is right back to violently racing in his chest.

Ajay takes the head between his lips and the warmth of his mouth is sweltering. He closes his eyes hard as Ajay takes him to the back of his mouth, his tongue coasting along the underside as he goes. Sabal covers his mouth with his hand, holding on to Ajay's hair in the other.

“ _Shit_ ,” he groans through his teeth. Ajay bobs his head, slowly at first, then quicker once he's got the rhythm down. He cups Sabal’s testicles in one hand, gently rolling them between his fingers with each move, and wraps the other around his thigh. The closeness of his hand to Sabal’s ass makes him tense instinctively but needlessly.

It's good. It's _too_ good. The sudden realisation that he's actually really enjoying this dampers Sabal’s mood almost immediately. He's _not_ misguided and he's not _broken_. This is purely for the sake of Kyrat and while enjoying it physically is necessary to a degree, that's all.

“Ajay, stop,” Sabal rasps out. There's a brief moment where Ajay pauses first and then starts moving away, quickly taking his hands and mouth off him.

“Sorry,” spills out quickly. Always _sorry_. He's got Sabal doing it now a days, too. It's annoying. “Too much?”

“No, not at all,” Sabal assures between breaths. “This feels very one sided, brother. I want to be able to touch you, too.” He can hear Ajay swallow.

“Yeah,” he replies quietly. “Yeah, okay.” The bed creaks as he moves again, coming back to lay tangled beside Sabal in the sheets again. Ajay kisses him and Sabal tries not to cringe at the thought that his mouth was just on his dick moments ago. More tentatively this time, Ajay reaches down to stroke his cock again. Last time, Ajay had done all the work but this time, at least Sabal knows what to expect- to a degree, anyways.

It's easier without having to see. Ajay kisses his neck and Sabal takes his time running his hand down Ajay's scarred torso and slowly towards his groin. He's hard already? Sabal’s barely touched him. Was he really aroused by just using his mouth or before that? It's still weird having Ajay's twitching, throbbing dick in his hand but he presses on. Using Ajay as an example, Sabal tries to mimic his hand movements. He finds Ajay's mouth again, a lazy, tired exchange of lips and tongue.

This is much more intimate than he expected it to be on any account. Ajay groans against his mouth, his fingers much more skilled as they travel from tip to base and back again. Sabal can hear his own breathing in the quiet room as he clumsily fists Ajay's dick in return. His precum sticks to his fingers and Sabal shivers at the sensation.

“Sabal,” Ajay rasps.

“Ajay,” Sabal groans back quietly. Obviously Ajay doesn't mind his inexperienced touch because it's not long until he's moaning louder and deeper and his hard cock is pulsing in his hand. He quickens his pace automatically and Ajay does the same, urging Sabal closer and closer to orgasm between his scar roughed fingers. Sabal can feel the phantom sensation of those fingers so _clearly_ on the very insides of his thighs.

They come simultaneously and Sabal firms his jaw as he stutters his hips. Ajay's lips on his neck roll his stomach again, the same awkward feeling settling on him post orgasm. His fingers are sticky with Ajay’s cum now and he withholds the urge to quickly wipe them off any whatever he can get to fastest. It's not that his orgasms with Ajay are unsatisfying, this time or last, but he barely gets to enjoy them before he feels sickly about it. How can another man make him come so easily?

Ajay reaches for something in the dark then Sabal feels the cloth on his fingers as they're cleaned off. He takes his hand back and Ajay cleans them both up a touch more before tossing the cloth aside. Sabal quickly tucks himself back into his pants and Ajay moves closer to his side. It seems darker in the room now and Sabal can't even make out where he is anymore as Ajay ‘cuddles’ him. A kiss is placed on his jawline, simple and sweet, and then Ajay is asleep again.

Sabal looks around the room but doesn't see. He gets back to sleep eventually with less dreams this time.


	8. Forgiveness

Sabal is shocked first and angry second.

Ajay sided with Amita?

He doesn't even know what to do with this information. He doesn't know how this happened. Sabal has done everything _right_ , how could Ajay have _ever_ let Amita fool him so much? What in Kyra could she have said, that she could have done, that could ever convince Ajay this was the right thing to do? That factory needed to be _destroyed_.

“Sabal?” Ajay murmurs. Sabal doesn't respond, simply clenching his hands tighter and praying harder. He's not quite sure for what at the moment, if he wants Kyra to just admit this was a big joke or if he's praying to keep his temper in check. A part of him _knows_ yelling at Ajay will get him nothing but- being nice obviously doesn't get him anything, either. He sacrificed so much for this and Ajay’s just thrown it back in his face!

“Sabal, we should talk,” Ajay says. Sabal looks at him coldly for a brief moment before turning away. “Sabal-”

“Is that what Amita did? Did she ‘talk’ to you, brother? What did she say? Did she convince you that's all we need to plan for the future? Or maybe she told you Ishwari would have wanted this,” Sabal replies.

“You need to listen to me, Sabal,” Ajay urges.

“You put that drug den directly into Amita’s hands! Do you understand that? You've given her a free pass to poison our land! And for what? Because you think the only way to move forward is turning us into a dirty, drug peddling, culture-less state? We can _never_ get rid of that factory now, Ajay! _You_ supported it! People are going to see what you've done and they're going to think Amita’s right! You don't have any idea what you've fucking done!” Sabal shouts at him, the volume of his voice raising faster than he actively decides and with it, his temper.

“You can't rebuild Kyrat on nothing, Sabal,” Ajay says firmly. “And you haven't given me _any_ indication that you have any plans for the future. Amita has. Once that opium is gone, that's it. There won't be anymore.” Sabal barks a laugh as he gets to his feet.

“Really? You think Amita will let it go that easily? That stuff is poison! She'll get one taste, one _little_ taste, and that's the end of Kyrat! And _you've_ given her that taste. We can't let her fear mongering drive us! She's got you fooled, brother, make no mistake. She's got you thinking that Kyrat will be helpless once we're free, doesn't she? Is that what you think, Ajay? That after spending _decades_ under Pagan’s thumb we don't know how to fend for ourselves? That we won't be able to rebuild _for ourselves_? That _she's_ our only hope for having a future again!” he demands, violently throwing his hands just to unwind enough of the rage in him to not actually hurt anyone.

“Kyrat isn't going to become a drug state,” Ajay insists. “We need that money to even begin to recover. Without it, a lot more people are going to die before things get better, do you understand that? Aren't you the one that thinks about the people?”

“You've given Amita the power to lie to people!” Sabal yells back. “No amount of poisoned money is going to stop her from tainting this entire country! She's always going to want more, Ajay, _always_! And now if we move on that factory, people are going to be _watching_! This isn't our way!” Ajay clenches his teeth firmly and there's a long few seconds where they just stare at each other.

“I thought you understood,” Sabal says, quieter but colder. “I thought you understood your father’s vision. I knew what he wanted, the good he was trying to do for this country, that's why I _worked_ my fingers _raw_ to get to where I am today and what do I get for it? That little she-tiger bullying her way through the ranks, spouting _bullshit_ to get to the top? People talking behind my back about how I've ‘changed’? And _you_ -”

“Sabal,” Ajay says firmly, a crystal clear warning.

“You don't even have enough trust in me to listen when I tell you Amita is _manipulating_ you!” he barks. “Everything I've done has been for a better country in the future! Everything Amita does is for herself! It always has been and it always will be!”

“You're not listening to me,” Ajay grounds out irritably. “It's _one_ factory, Sabal, with limited product. Once it's gone, Kyrat will have funding and there won't be anymore. You're making a big deal out of nothing.”

“You're not listening!” Sabal shouts. “You think that's the only poppy field in Kyrat? You think that's the only processing plant? This isn't about the factory, Ajay! By doing this, you've _spit_ on Kyra’s vision and everything we stand for! And people _saw_! You've endorsed the _poisoning_ of our very souls! All because you let Amita sway you with her honey _bullshit_!”

“That's enough,” Ajay says coldly. “I'm done here.”

“Ajay,” Sabal bites as he leaves. “Do not walk away from me, Ajay.”

Ajay slams the door behind him and Sabal grits his teeth hard. He can't believe this. What did he do wrong? _How_ could he have let things get this far?

\- x -

“Trouble in paradise, Sabal?” Amita asks. Sabal ignores her outright. “Ajay said you two got into an argument. If it was left up to you, you'd run this country into the ground and he knows it, Sabal.”

Still, Sabal says nothing. He continues his work and doesn't acknowledge her in the slightest. He isn't in the mood for this, not now or ever. She wants him to bark and bite and right now, he isn't interested. He has to do something about Ajay and he doesn't need to be angry while he thinks about it. Anger gets him even less with Ajay, clearly.

“Once Noore is out of the way, we can move on the bridge into the north,” Amita says.

“Ajay said he was dealing with Noore,” Sabal replies mildly.

“And if he doesn't kill her?” Amita says. “What do we do then?”

“We didn't kill Paul,” Sabal reminds her. “What does it matter? As long as she's out of the way, it doesn't interfere with taking the bridge.”

“Paul isn't a figure head with a whole arena of ‘bodyguards’ more loyal to him than Pagan,” Amita scoffs. “And Paul is dead, anyways.” Sabal looks up at her questioningly.

“What happened? I thought you wanted to keep him alive for, how did you put it? ‘Potential usefulness’?” he says sarcastically.

“Yes, well, Ajay decided for himself that he didn't much care for Paul being around, I guess,” she tells him.

“Ajay killed Paul?” Sabal asks. “In cold blood? He was in a cage.”

“In cold blood,” Amita repeats. “In his cage.” That- Sabal isn't sure why he's surprised. It's not that he disagrees, the only reason he hadn't argued with Amita about De Pluer’s fate was because he saw opportunity in keeping him alive as well, but for Ajay to go there completely unprompted and kill him is- alarming. When he brought them De Pluer he almost seemed sympathetic to the man.

“Then why are you so worried he won't kill Noore?” Sabal asks irritably.

“Noore isn't De Pluer,” Amita says. “If Ajay hadn't gone after Paul, we still had a chance to do it ourselves. We're not going to get that chance with Noore. There's no way we can infiltrate the arena with her still alive and she won't be leaving there any time soon after this.” Sabal doesn't think it's necessary to kill Noore. Preferable, sure, easier even, but not necessary. Ajay has proven he can take out fortresses with ease and furthermore with Noore’s family dead, it's unlikely she'd pose much of a problem for them anyways.

But maybe he just thinks that because Amita clearly doesn't.

“You’ve lied to Ajay so much you actually convinced him to take the brick factory for you but you don't trust him to kill Noore?” he comments as he returns to his work. “Haven't you faith in anything at all?”

“I do,” Amita says sourly. “We don't need faith right now, we need results.”

“Sabal. It's done. Noore’s dead.”

Sabal looks at her and she looks back. She isn't upset but she doesn't look surprised, either. If she expected Ajay to get it done, why did she come here?

“Ask and receive, sister,” Sabal says pointedly. She sighs.

“I don't know why I bother with you,” she murmurs as she leaves. Sabal answers his radio.

\- x -

It seems like Sabal is always the one to approach Ajay now a days, perhaps because Ajay is so obscenely busy otherwise. Today is no different. Ajay hadn't come back right away after killing Noore and that may have been for the best. Sabal needed more time to really think things out, anyways.

When he does finally come around again, he's distracted. Sabal doesn't think this is too unusual now a days, either. He wanders into the communal house without saying anything to anyone and shortly after, Sabal follows him. Sometimes he goes back to the homestead and sometimes he comes back to Banapur and sometimes he just doesn't come back. It can be a game to track him down but Sabal thinks he makes a habit of coming back to Banapur for a reason; Sabal.

It's so shortly after Ajay had entered that Sabal doesn't think knocking is necessary. When he comes in, however, Ajay quickly hides the folder he was reading from. He doesn't unhide it when he realises it's just Sabal. Several quiet seconds pass as they look at each other, perhaps both of them wondering if they should acknowledge this.

“Find something, brother?” Sabal asks.

“I- don't know yet,” Ajay replies. “It's not important. What, uh, what do you want, Sabal? If you've just come to yell at me about the factory again, you can leave.” He changes the topic fast. Sabal certainly feels like whatever he's found is important. The thought that he's keeping this information to share with Amita privately almost sets him off again but he quickly controls himself. He has no proof of that and right now, they need to handle one problem at a time.

“No Ajay, I didn't,” Sabal says instead. “I actually came to apologise.” Ajay looks surprised and then skeptical. That's a little rude, honestly.

“You did?” he says, more like a statement than a question.

“Is that really so hard to believe?” Sabal scoffs.

“A little,” Ajay admits. “You don't exactly seem like the ‘apology’ type.” Definitely rude.

“I thought about it, a lot, and I realised that I've spent so much time fighting with Amita over everything that I instinctively assume that anything she says I have to disagree with. Honestly, sometimes I think she could tell me Bhadra is Banashur’s daughter and I'd call her a liar,” he says and he laughs awkwardly. Ajay arches a brow at him. “Bhadra _is_ -”

“No, I got it,” Ajay assures.

“Yes, well, that's why we _need_ you, Ajay. If you think there's something to what Amita wants then I trust _you_. It was- It was wrong of me to even suggest that the only way you could have agreed with Amita was because she manipulated you into it. You can think for yourself, brother, and all of Kyrat is counting on that,” Sabal says. “I'm sorry I lost my temper and I'm sorry I didn't have any faith in the choice you made.”

“I, uh, thank you, Sabal,” Ajay murmurs. “That was, uh, surprisingly genuine.”

“Surprisingly?” Sabal repeats.

“Sorry, I just meant I didn't think you'd actually be okay with this, like at all,” he says. He is right, however. Sabal is so not okay with this in any way, shape, or form. Not destroying that brick factory was a mistake and now it remains a blight on their land and an ugly obelisk to the attempt at destroying their heritage. Still, they can recovered from this, but Sabal can not let it happen again.

“There was a reason you thought leaving it standing was the better idea,” Sabal says. “Whatever reason that may be, I trust in you that it's sound, son of Mohan.”

“We just need the money from what's left there, that's all,” Ajay assures. “I really have no intention of letting Kyrat become a drug state, okay?”

“I was listening even if you insisted I wasn’t,” Sabal agrees. It won't matter in the end. For the time being, that factory is going to sit quietly and no one's getting anything from it until Pagan is dead. Between then and now, things will have changed. There's no point in focusing anymore time and resources on it until then.

“So we're okay?” Ajay asks quietly. “The two of us?”

“Yes,” Sabal replies. “Of course, Ajay.”

“I don't want something like this to hurt our relationship,” he says. Perhaps, then, he shouldn't have fucking done it. That seems like the logical solution here.

“We're okay,” Sabal assures him again, reaching out to take Ajay's hand gently. Ajay gives him a kiss and Sabal answers it faintly. He's not in the mood to try to traverse another sexual encounter right now but it seems neither is Ajay. No, he still seems distracted, instead. Even with this apology, whatever paper he's brought with him he doesn't share with Sabal. This is worrying. “Are _you_ okay?”

This makes Ajay sigh. It never seems to be the correct question to ask, honestly. Ajay either lies or is really not okay. Sabal doesn't prefer either of them.

“Yeah, I'm okay,” he says. “I'm just thinking about Noore still.”

“You took care of it,” Sabal promises. “She killed a lot of people who didn't deserve it.”

“I didn't kill her,” Ajay says. “And I wasn't going to. She killed herself.” Sabal didn't know this but when Ajay said she was dead, he hadn't bothered to look into it any further. Ajay has done what he said he would every step of the way and there's never been any reason to follow up on his work, plain and simple. What is he supposed to say?

“What's done is done, brother,” Sabal murmurs. “Perhaps this was for the best.”

“Did she really deserve to die, Sabal?” Ajay asks. “Pagan forced her into this, kept her family hostage and not even alive, and you really think that she needed to die? Would you have sacrificed your family by disobeying him? That's what she would have had to do. If Pagan had your husband, your _child_ , and told you to dance, wouldn't you?” He doesn't sound angry, just frustrated. Why is Noore so important to him? He barely _knew_ Noore.

“Yes,” Sabal says. “I would have.” Because he's already been in a position like that, hasn't he? How many people had Sabal put in danger to rescue Ajay? How many of them died doing it? They could have saved Darpan but it would have meant leaving Ajay in Pagan’s grasp. No, Sabal didn't kill any of them directly but did Noore? Ajay looks at him, long and hard, and he frowns.

“She didn't have to die,” he says again. “Her family didn't have to die.”

“I'm sorry, Ajay,” Sabal murmurs. There's not much more he can offer besides that. “If you want to do anything for Noore now, killing Pagan Min would be a good start.”

“Yeah,” Ajay agrees softly. “You're right. Getting rid of Pagan Min is the only way to assure something like this doesn't happen again.” Sabal leans in to press a kiss to his mouth, if only to stop this discussion, and Ajay sighs into him. It's still stressed and tired but somehow comforted. He grades his fingers over Ajay's exposed wrist softly.

“With Shanath under our control, we're one step closer to that, brother,” Sabal promises. “All thanks to you.” Ajay smiles somberly at him.

“I think I'm going to take a nap, alright?” he murmurs. Sabal looks at the corner of the folder Ajay haphazardly hid from him before looking back again.

“Good idea. Get some rest, brother,” he agrees. “And eat something, will you? You forget far too much.”

“I will. Thanks Sabal.”


	9. Don't Look Up

So Ajay has gone to the Himalayas and hasn't returned. This is fairly concerning, obviously, especially since no one seems to know what he was doing up there. Ever since Ajay came back from Noore, he's been acting strange and Sabal is fairly certain whatever was in that folder is the cause. It seems he hadn't told Amita about it, either. What could Ajay possibly be hiding from them that took him all the way to the Himalayas?

Sabal eagerly awaits to hear _anything_ about Ajay’s whereabouts for days and when active search teams can't find him, he's reduced to praying. Amita likes to paint him as the over religious fool who waits for Kyra in a storm while boats pass him by but he is not. She doesn't understand, she probably never will, faith and action don't need to be opposites. Usually, they're more closely related than she would ever admit.

Kyra guides him.

“Looks like another avalanche coming down from Durgesh.”

Sabal isn't sure what it is but the comment made so nonchalantly over the radio sets a fire in him. He can't help but remember when he first met Ajay, digging him out of the snow after it collapsed down on them and bringing him back to Banapur. With no proof that Ajay is there, with no way to know, Sabal urgently rounds up a team and rushes to the avalanche site.

The entire way over he tries to put together pieces of the puzzle he doesn't have to somehow put Ajay here. Somehow he got some information from Noore, it took him to the Himalayas where Yuma’s men have been seen before, one of them caught Ajay and brought him to Durgesh, and Ajay escaped. It sounds- like Sabal has lost his mind. He doesn't answer anyone directly about what they need from the snow so bad, partially because he doesn't want to look like a fool if he's wrong and partially because he doesn't want anyone relaying this information to Amita.

Sabal can't believe Kyra would send him such a clear sign and have nothing come from it.

They don't occupy the area below Durgesh because it's a huge liability between the frequent avalanches and Yuma’s men occasionally sliding down the mountains themselves. Aside from that, there's really no reason for it. People don't escape Durgesh. If Ajay was taken there, if Yuma brought him there, could he really have gotten out?

Hastily, Sabal and his team begin their search through the densely packed snow and rock. They don't want to be here if another fall comes along nor do they potentially want to be spotted by Royal Army wandering by. Some of his men dress up a little more to stave off the coldness of the snow but Sabal only pulls on another coat before getting to work. There's a lot of snow here and immediately his fingers are chilled to the bone from digging around. His heart is racing.

Could Ajay have survived this? Could he have escaped Durgesh? Is he even here?

After nearly half an hour of searching, his team is becoming agitated and cold in not knowing what they're looking for. They've found other things, of course, nothing particularly useful but things they take anyways that have slide down the mountain with the snow. Stuff comes down from Durgesh all the times, dead bodies mostly. There's no way to tell if they were dead before or after the trip down.

Sabal takes out his radio and he doesn't want to hold his breath but he can feel it lock up in his throat especially well in the coldness. Ajay hasn't answered in nearly a week, there's no way he'd answered now. He isn't looking for Ajay to answer, though, he's looking to Kyra.

“Ajay,” he says. “We're here, brother, do you read?”

He doesn't answer. Kyra does.

Sabal hears the forced feedback of his own voice, muffled and distance but certainly there. His heart races faster.

“Everyone be quiet!” Sabal shouts. Everyone stops moving, stops talking, stops digging, and they turn to look at Sabal questioningly. “Ajay, where are you, brother? We're here now, you need to stay awake.” Low and behold, it's louder now. Ajay is here. Urgently, everyone quickly begins to move around to try to locate where the sound is coming from. It's so distorted, it has to be a good bit under the snow.

“If you can hear me, we need a sign, Ajay,” Sabal urges. He's only rambling now, trying to keep Ajay’s radio audible to pin down. While everyone else rushes around, Sabal determinedly but slowly trudges through the snow to listen. “Ajay, I've come for you. I love you too much to let you die under some snow, brother. We're going to get you out of this. Stay with me, Ajay.”

“Sabal! Over here!” someone shouts. Sabal is at her side immediately and everyone else quickly follows suit. They dig through the snow as fast as they can manage and without warning, Sabal sees a familiar blue spot. He pushes the snow aside urgently to uncover more of it until he can finally pull Ajay upright out of the feet of snow he was laying under. Someone else keeps working on unburying the rest of him. Sabal is too overwhelmed to know what he's feeling.

Ajay is here. He's slightly blue from being frozen and he certainly looks like he's been through hell but he's here. Sabal leans in close and fortunately, feels Ajay's cold breath on his face. He's breathing, shallowly but breathing. Not only is he here but he's _alive_. Sabal presses his head to Ajay's chest just to be sure and his quiet little heartbeat still goes strong.

“Praise Kyra,” Sabal whispers in nothing but sheer relief. While they try to dig him the rest of the way out, Sabal presses his lips to Ajay's icy ones and gently pushes more air into his lungs. It takes a few times but eventually, Ajay breathing evens out and becomes less shallow. They pull him out of the snow and quickly, Sabal takes his outer coat off and wraps it around Ajay, tying the arms tightly to keep his limbs from moving.

“Let's move!” Sabal commands as he hoists Ajay up and quickly carries him back to one of the trucks. He holds Ajay in his lap in a meager attempt to keep him warm as they head for the nearest outpost. At the very least, it's easy to tell he's still breathing this way. Even on the bumpy ride over he doesn't awaken. Sabal prays for a different reason now.

Once there, they carry him inside and to the bed. Sabal pulls any of his wet clothes off and quickly swaddles him in the blankets on the bed until a medic can arrive. Aside from keeping him warm, there's not much they can do. Ajay is beaten up, he usually is, but he doesn't have any open wounds to deal with and as far as Sabal can tell, his broken bones are minimal. In the condition he's in, though, it would be best to leave those for someone who knows more than Sabal.

It's an absolute miracle they found him. Now they just need to keep him alive. Sabal waits by his bedside until the closest thing they have to a doctor arrives. Ajay still hasn't waken and still hasn't moved, surely a bad sign. He only leaves very briefly to take care of himself a little when the doctor does arrive. If he gets sick from wet clothes or faint from a lack of food, he won't be any help to Ajay.

When he returns, it looks like the doctor is finishing up. Ajay is bandaged up more appropriately, some of his injuries splinted now, but he's still unconscious. Sabal doesn't think he's ever seen Ajay asleep this long. ‘Just like mom’ rings in his head.

“Is he alright?” Sabal asks. The doctor looks Ajay over.

“Considering what he's been through, he's surprisingly okay, yeah. More scrapes and bruises than anything,” he assures. “No actual broken bones as far as I can tell, just a couple sprains and fractures. They should heal up without a problem. No frostbite, a miracle in itself and no lingering effects from hypothermia it seems.”

“When is he going to wake up?” Sabal asks. The doctor sighs.

“Honesty Sabal?” he says. “He might not.”

“What?” Sabal barks back. “What do you mean he might not!”

“Judging by the bump on his head, Ajay hit it pretty hard,” the doctor explains. “Rolling down the mountain I assume. Without any kind of scans or tests, we have no way of knowing what kind of damage he sustained. Right now for all we know, he's in a coma- permanently. Not to mention even if the blow to the head isn't what caused this, we don't actually know what they _do_ in Durgesh. This could be an after effect or worse.”

“So we just sit and do nothing?” Sabal demands.

“Listen, I've treated a lot of people, Sabal. A _lot_ of people. Some people are just- fragile. What I know about Ajay Ghale, what he's done and what he's been through, it's my personal opinion that he's going to be just fine,” the doctor says, far more confident that he should sound after admitting Ajay might not wake up at all. “If anything, he'll probably be healed through sheer spite and an inability to be idle. He'll wake up sore and disoriented but I have no doubt he'll make a full recovery and be back to work as soon as he can.”

What a useless doctor. Sabal has half a mind to leave him under several feet of snow and just hope for the best. Just sitting around waiting for Ajay to possibly never get better doesn't sound like a proper medical procedure to him.

“When he does wake up,” he continues. “He needs rest, okay? Don't let him go galavanting around right away. He's probably going to want to get on the move again but even if he's asleep for a while, Ajay needs to relax and get his bearings back or he will hurt himself.” Sabal’s going to hurt this doctor in a second.

“Thank you, brother,” he says through ground teeth instead. “We'll let you know how Ajay is coming along.” The doctor nods at him and takes his leave before Sabal really does put hands on him. He looks at Ajay again. At the very least, he looks more peaceful than he usually does when he sleeps and his chilled features are already back to their warm, flushed color. He truly does look like he's just sleeping. Sabal can't fathom someone looking so healthy and lively just- never waking up.

With everything that's happened, Sabal feels like he’s owed an explanation as to why Ajay is in such a bad condition. He digs through some of Ajay's things for any sort of clue but there's nothing here. If he really did come down from Durgesh, this isn't surprising. Sabal sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers to try to reduce the headache forming. Ajay could honestly die and he could never even know what he was doing that was so risky.

Needless to say, Sabal isn't going to leave Ajay here. He has a patrol team give him and an unconscious Ajay a ride back to the Ghale homestead. They drop him off at the bottom and sure enough, Sabal has a similar though: Mohan didn't think out the consequences of building his house on such a high ridge did he? Sabal carries Ajay up the path slowly but surely. It's not really a two person job and Sabal doesn't bother having someone help him.

“Ajay!” the caretaker says urgently, immediately on his feet when he spots Sabal carrying him toward the house. “Sabal, what happened?”

“If I knew the details, I'd tell you, brother,” he promises. “We found him under the snow.” The caretaker quickly opens the door for him and with a little help, the two of them get Ajay up the ladder and into his own bed. Sabal wraps him tightly to keep him warm. Now they wait for him to wake up. He _will_ wake up. Kyra has plans for Ajay and it's not fucking this.

Sabal has a cigarette outside and not too far off, he can see Ajay's two weird junkie neighbors questioningly looking out of their tent to see what's happening. So far, they've minded their own business and Sabal minds his. Noore is dead and if they worked for her, they don't anymore. They're afraid of him anyways. He looks back at the house, exhaling a long, smoky breath before turning to the caretaker.

“You've done a lot of good work with Mohan’s home, Nischit,” he compliments. “I didn't mean for you to go out of your way but thank you.”

“Ajay asked me to,” Nischit replies. “He gave me a lot of money to fix this place up.” This surprises Sabal, honestly. Ajay never seemed attached enough to this place to care what happened to it.

“Did he say why?” Sabal asks curiously. Nischit shrugs.

“I didn't ask,” he says. “Figured he spent so much time here, he just wanted it to be livable.” Perhaps Ajay has taken to calling this place home, too. Sabal laughs a little. He's more like Mohan than Ajay wants to think sometimes. This place calls to him, that much is clear.

Sabal washes Ajay's clothes and hangs them out to dry. They look like they've needed it for a while, something fairly unlike Ajay. Then he sits by Ajay’s bedside and he waits. On a normal day Ajay sleeps like a rock, unmoving and dead to the world, but this is significantly different.

“Amita,” Sabal says, finally deciding now is as good a time as ever to fill her in. It looks like he'll be waiting here a while. “I found Ajay.”

“I've heard,” Amita replies, not particularly upset but obviously having been waiting to hear from him. What else has she ‘heard’ already? “Is he okay?”

“We don't know yet. He's unconscious right now and according to your little doctor, it might stay that way,” he explains. “I've brought him back to his homestead for now. We'll just have to wait and see what happens.”

“Alright, keep me informed,” Amita replies, perhaps knowing Sabal is going to do that as little as possible. “We'll have to hold off on making any big moves until he's back on his feet.” Did she not hear him when he said Ajay may _never_ wake up again? Is it just not that big of a deal to her? Of course it's not. She'll just try to find someone else, someone who will fall for her lies more easily. Sabal slams his radio into his thigh harder than he means to, gritting his teeth in anger. He tries not to think about it and instead redirects his feelings back to praying.

He withholds the urge to snoop.

Nischit cooks a meal, surprisingly adequate, for the two of them and Ajay should he happen to wake. He also seems to make extra and while he throws it more at the junkies than actually gives it to them, he did go to the effort to make sure there was enough. Nischit isn't much for words so Sabal doesn't ask. He and Ajay get along fairly well and Sabal can't help but wonder if Nischit is- no, none of his business.

Sabal returns to Ajay’s bedside.

Once again, Sabal finds himself waiting. That's a theme with Ajay. He'll go off somewhere and only once he's started doing something will he tell anyone where he's gone and they'll hear little, if anything, until he's done. There's something unsettling about knowing exactly where he is for once but maybe that's just because he's unconscious. Everything about this should be unsettling. Sabal alternates between praying, falling asleep, and occasionally checking on Ajay throughout the night.

Not doing anything, especially not doing anything while Ajay is like this, doesn't sit well with Sabal. He can't leave, though, not when something could happen at any moment. Sabal works on what he can while he sits by quietly; tracks some army movements with his radio, orchestrates some moving of supplies, and has another argument with Amita about the state of the arena.

Even the sound of him and Amita shouting over the radio doesn't stir Ajay.

Sabal prays more.

This goes on for days, different ‘doctors’ coming in and out to tend to Ajay and make sure he is actually still alive. Every day Sabal grows more anxious and prays more and more insistently until he finds that's all he's doing. Ajay can't die here. After all he's done for Kyrat he can't die now. There's still work to do, there's still a good life to live after this bloody war is put to rest once and for all. Ajay has to see that. Sabal promised Mohan, promised _himself_ , Ajay would see that day. If Ajay dies here-

If Ajay dies here Sabal will go to Durgesh himself and tear Yuma limb from fucking limb.

Kyra has her reasons, Sabal tells himself, for everything. She wouldn't give Kyrat such hope only to yank it away from them again. She wouldn't do this to them again. Mohan had died so suddenly when they were so _close_ to having their country back, she would not do that to them again. She _couldn't_.

Ajay stirs and for a brief moment, Sabal thinks he's only imagining it. Kyra wouldn't take away the only thing he loves so dearly.

“Sabal?” Ajay murmurs. He's awake.


	10. Sambar

Sabal didn't think it would be so difficult to keep Ajay in bed. Honestly, most the time it seemed like Ajay would literally rather be doing anything else but Sabal can't leave him alone for two seconds without Ajay trying to get dressed. Sabal has been reduced to hiding Ajay's shoes and khukri to stop him from straight up leaving since, as he's learned, Ajay will leave without one of them but not both. He's not sure why but it works. Mostly.

Fortunately he is healing up well regardless and Sabal doesn't see himself having to play forced babysitter for much longer. He leaves to take care of business but is usually on his way back when Nischit inevitably radios him to tell him Ajay has left. Ajay rarely gets very far with his 'fractured’ bones and always acts like he was just heading home when Sabal has to come pick him up and carry him back inside. Perhaps Mohan chose this hill for a reason after all.

Sabal brings back some food.

“Ah, Ajay, you _are_ awake.” He knows that voice. Sabal strays closer to the ladder, keeping quiet so he's not caught eavesdropping. Ajay is on his radio? With Pagan Min? “I heard you have a little boyfriend,” Pagan hums. “How _delightful_.”

“You've just now heard that?” Ajay replies mildly. _Why_ is he talking to _Pagan Min_?

“Of course not,” Pagan scoffs. “I've known you and your little pet elephant have been playing around from the beginning. You'll have to forgive me if I wasn't going to believe it right away. One of the heads of your little terrorist group _suddenly_ decides he has _romantic_ feelings for _you_ , the one person who could _easily_ cement his place as leader? Sounds a little _suspicious_ , doesn't it, Ajay?” Ajay says nothing.

“I mean, charming maybe, but that _temper_. You're just like your mother, you know, off galavanting around with roguish, ill mannered men and whatnot. She grew out of that real quick, I'll tell you that. But! I'm being supportive!” he assures. Still, Ajay doesn't say anything. Pagan did literally just send him to jail. Did he really think Ajay forgot about that? It was like a month ago.

“If this is what makes you happy then so be it. I'll have you know, I have my tailor working on a couple suits for you two lovebirds. I'm thinking a wedding on the water. It'll be strange, you being not fourteen and it not being arranged and all, but obviously Sabal has gotten over that,” Pagan says. Sabal will be glad when Pagan is dead and can't run his fucking mouth anymore. “Oh, how long Sabal must have waited to be a Ghale.” So fucking glad.

“Which reminds me, make candles legal again, going to need lots of those, and same sex marriage. Also straight marriage I guess. I outlawed that out of spite when your mother left. Oh, what a dark time in my life.” He talks so much. Sabal knew this, of course, but he's never had the misfortune to hear him ramble on like this. Why is Ajay even dealing with this? “You'll look lovely in red, Ajay, and Sabal will look great in chains don't you think? Ajay? Hello~? _Aaaajay_? No red then?”

Sabal climbs up the ladder and Ajay glances over his shoulder briefly before reaching to turn his radio off. He doesn't look particularly bothered, in fact he doesn't look like he was paying much attention at all. Instead he's just focused on cleaning one of his guns for the umpteenth time.

“You were talking to Pagan Min, brother?” Sabal questions.

“More like he was talking at me,” Ajay murmurs back. He doesn't act as though this is too unusual.

“Does this happen often?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” Ajay says and he shrugs. “You're probably the last person I need to be telling this to but- my mother had an affair with Pagan Min, I guess.” Sabal’s skin jumps. He didn't know Pagan’s weird fixation with Ishwari was requited.

“Are you-?” Sabal begins before he can stop himself.

“Mohan Ghale’s son, yeah,” Ajay answers irritably. No, Sabal never would have thought otherwise. He was just caught off guard. Ishwari- how could she have done that to Mohan with Pagan Min of all people? That sounds extremely unlikely now that he thinks about it, actually. Ajay should really stop believing everything Pagan Min tells him. “It happened after I was born. I think Pagan sort of sees me as a son?”

“He put you in Durgesh, brother,” Sabal says incredulously.

“I didn't say he was sane,” Ajay murmurs. “He doesn't actually want me dead. I- actually I'm not fully sure what he wants. Maybe for me to join him or something? Be the son he never had, I don't know.”

“And you, Ajay?” Sabal asks. “How do you feel?”

“If you're asking me if I'm having second thoughts, no, I'm not,” Ajay assures him plainly. That really wasn't something Sabal thought he had to worry about. If it wasn't bad enough having Amita trying to drag him one way, Pagan may actually be pulling him in another?

“I don't know what my mother saw in him. I don't know if it's just not there anymore or if maybe he just treated her better than anyone else or-” Ajay sighs. “Or if my mother was just not as good of a person as people thought. Runs in the family, I guess. What Pagan Min has done is unforgivable. He's got to go.” Of course, Sabal would have to be a fool to ever think someone like Ajay would ever empathize with someone like Pagan no matter how many words he twists.

“Do you have any proof of this ‘affair’?” Sabal asks. “Pagan Min lies, brother.”

“I-” Ajay hesitates. “No. I don't.” That's what he thought. Mohan was a great man and sure, Sabal knows he and Ishwari had their differences, but she could never betray him. She had gone to _spy_ on him, not sleep with him. Sabal puts a hand on his shoulder warmly.

“Your parents were great people, Ajay, and you are definitely their son,” he assures. “You're _saving_ Kyrat, brother.” Ajay sighs and Sabal frowns mutely. “Why don't you believe that?”

“I don't know you as well as I could, Sabal,” he says. “And you don't know me. Sometimes I think that's for the better. I'd rather be ‘ _son of Mohan_ ’ than- psychopath.” Sabal has thought it briefly before, it's hard not to, but he's never said it to Ajay or anyone else. He knows better.

“Who called you that, brother?” Sabal asks.

“No one has to,” Ajay scoffs back irritably. “You think I've spent my whole life helping people, Sabal. I _haven't_. I was a shitty son who couldn't stay out of trouble to save his life. Then I was a rabid fucking dog for the military ready to shoot anyone with my skin colour or darker for being a ‘terrorist’. And now I'm here, trying to fucking-” He throws a hand up in anger suddenly, too frustrated to continue right away, and tosses the clip to his gun aside harshly with the other. Sabal moves his hand quickly. He breathes deeply. “Trying to be someone my dead mother would actually call her son.”

Sabal supposes he never did ask. He's never really been interested in Ajay's life in America or really in anything before he had shown up here. He's Mohan’s son, that shouldn't matter. It obviously matters to Ajay.

“No offense, Sabal,” Ajay murmurs. “But just because I do some good things for you and ‘this country’ doesn't mean I'm not a selfish brat just trying not to be a disappointment for once.” Once again, Sabal doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know why it's so easy for Ajay to leave him wordless when that's the very thing that got him here. He's always known the right things to say to the right people when it mattered. So often, though, Ajay catches him like a sambar in the headlights.

“I hear Kyrat changes people,” Sabal says. Ajay looks at him. “I never got specifications as to whether that was for the worst.” For a couple seconds, Ajay only stares at him. Then he smiles, then he laughs. It's rare, if ever, that Sabal gets this kind of reaction from him.

“You think I've changed?” he asks. “For the better?”

“I couldn't say, brother,” Sabal replies. “I don't know you as well as I could.” Ajay just nods and huffs another laugh out.

“I guess you're right,” he says. Sabal puts some food down in front of him and Ajay pushes what he's working on aside. “I'm getting tired of sitting around, though.”

“You'll be back out there soon,” Sabal promises. Ajay doesn't eat right away, his humor fading away back to a more calm, but somber expression. He's thinking again, too hard perhaps.

“Sabal, do you-” he begins but he trails off, his brow bent into that familiar concern.

“Do I what?” Sabal presses.

“After this war is over and Pagan Min is-” Ajay doesn't finish, doesn't have to. “Do you still want to be together?” Sabal’s stomach flips. From the beginning he knew that it was entirely possible there was no way out of this. The thought of breaking up with Ajay, regardless of time or reason, only overcomes Sabal with dread. It's not an option.

“Have you decided you're staying in Kyrat then?” he asks instead.

“I don't-” Ajay sighs. “I don't know.” Still? Where could he possibly go? He already said it himself, there's nothing left in America for him. This is his home. This is where he belongs. Sabal frowns.

“I can't leave Kyrat, Ajay,” he says. Ajay starts on his food.

“I know.”

\- x -

Sabal definitely understands why Ajay is so good at what he does. Even without carrying his own weapons, he's alert and ready at any given moment. It's exactly _why_ he's not carrying his own weapons. Given the opportunity, Ajay will be off task and out chasing down Royal Guards for no other reason than because he's seen them. Sabal isn't saying this is a bad thing but he needs a last check up, first.

“I wasn't lying, you know,” Ajay comments.

“I know, brother,” Sabal agrees. The doctor said if Ajay could make it down the cliff and into town without a problem for said check up, then he's probably more than ready to get back on his feet. Honestly, he's probably been ready for a while. Despite constantly trying to strain his injuries, Ajay has healed up well- and fast. Kyra obviously watches over Ajay like a hawk.

Sabal is walking him there because if he doesn't, he has no idea where Ajay will end up. He's been resting far too long for him not to be restless. Between here and the village isn't exactly a lot of action but Sabal swears he can see Ajay twitch every time he sees a wild animal in the distance. He wants to get back to work or at the very least, do anything at all.

Fortunately the town isn't too far.

Ajay already looks impatient to get on with this so Sabal will give him his things back which is fair enough, really. Honestly, Sabal knows he's just going to go out and injure himself again. As they enter town, a familiar face approaches Ajay rather suddenly.

“Ajay! You're okay!” he says eagerly. It's the guy from the Golden Path camp- the one Ajay had slept with soon after helping them. Sabal is kind of surprised at how big he actually is up close. The soldier grabs Ajay's arms excitedly and leans in to kiss him. Panicked, Ajay quickly leans back.

“Sarang,” he replies hurriedly. ‘Sarang’ just as quickly lets go.

“Sorry! You and-” he looks at Sabal, sharp and alert eyes not all that unlike Ajay's piercing through him like he inherently _knows_ Sabal is a fraud. “Sorry, brother. I wasn't thinking. Sabal, I- didn't mean any disrespect.”

“Don't worry, brother,” Sabal assures easily. “With Ajay, I can't blame you.”

“Yes, well, I'm glad you're okay, Ajay,” Sarang says. Last time it wasn't very noticeable but it doesn't sound like he's very fluid in his English. “It's good to see you again.”

“Yeah, it's good to see you, too,” Ajay agrees with a smile. “We should talk some more later.”

“Uh,” Sarang replies slowly as he looks to Sabal like he clearly doesn't think this is a great idea. “Yeah. Maybe later.” He escapes this situation as fast as he can manage. Sabal doesn't worry about Ajay, he simply isn't that kind of person. Likewise, Sabal isn't the ‘jealous’ type, anyways. They continue for the doctor.

It's hard not to suddenly remember how insistently Ajay believes his mother had an affair or how Pagan so casually comments how Ajay is just like his mother.

“Alright, we're here. Can I have my stuff back?” Ajay urges.

“As you wish,” Sabal replies as he begins handing Ajay his various junk back. Carrying all this here makes him also understand how strong Ajay must actually be. It's a lot of stuff and it's heavy but Ajay carries it with ease. “That was-?”

“Huh? Sarang? He's just a soldier. We- briefly had a thing. Leave him alone,” Ajay says, paying more attention to putting everything back on his body where it belongs. Sabal had no interest in bothering him. He was only curious as to how Ajay viewed the situation, Sarang obviously was quite attached.

“I should go,” Sabal says.

“You're not going to wait to see if you need to put me under house arrest again?” Ajay asks, more joking than anything.

“Ajay,” Sabal replies. “I don't think I could keep you in that house any longer if the doctor said both your knee caps were shattered.” Ajay laughs. They share a quick little kiss before Ajay heads inside and Sabal actually gets back to work. On the brightside, he does know Amita is capable enough to handle the weight of the Golden Path when he can't. It doesn't happen often but it does happen. If only she would listen to reason, they could make a great pair. Or at the very least, a great leader and secondary commander-in-chief.

As Sabal is leaving back for Banapur, the same irritant approaches him.

“Sabal,” Sarang says. Like a sambar, Sabal thinks, antlers poised to defend his right to his mate. Sabal is not a sambar, though. “I really am sorry about earlier.” Or not? Sarang defaults back to Nepali when it's just the two of them, clearly more comfortable with it.

“As I said, no offense taken, brother,” Sabal promises. “Finding Ajay attractive is hardly an insult to me.”

“Right,” Sarang agrees softly. “I also wanted to say thank you. Ever since you and Ajay have started dating openly, people like us have been a little more comfortable actually being seen. I, uh, the way you talk about our traditions and culture, I didn't think there'd be a place for people like us if you, uh, had your way, you know?” This is what Sabal doesn't understand. What about him, the way he holds himself and his ideals, makes people think he would perpetuate violence against his own? Traitors, defilers, the poisoned and tainted, sure, but a man from his own camp holding a gun in the name of the Golden Path? Just because he likes other men? Just because he laid with Ajay?

Kyra made these men this way and their culture, their culture may not have always understood that but Kyra has spoken clearly. If there is a reason she made Ajay like this, than there is good reason for all of them. Different, but good.

“You're a good man, Sarang,” Sabal assures, putting a hand on his shoulder warmly. “There will always be a place for men like you with us.” Sarang smiles minutely at him and nods his head respectfully. He returns to the group of people he had come from, none of them looking any more unlike the typical Golden Path member than any other; none Sabal would assume also like men.

“Sabal, it looks like Amita is planning on moving on the bridge,” his radio alerts suddenly.

“She'll want Ajay's help, then,” Sabal murmurs back. “Where is she?”

“Still in Shanath. She's been, uh, making some ‘friends’.”

“I'm sure,” Sabal comments mildly. Noore’s enforcers could be powerful allies. “Keep me informed. If I know her, she'll be calling Ajay there soon. Let me know when he leaves.”

“Will do.”


	11. Lessons in Reading

Amita tries to move on King’s Bridge without him. Sabal isn't sure what she hopes to gain by this, if she thinks she'll truly be able to take credit for it or if she just wants to cut him from the equation for her own sake, but it doesn't work. Instead, he alerts Ajay to a truck much closer than the one Amita wants to hit and Ajay takes it.

The bridge is theirs and finally the north is open to their help once more.

Amita’s mad anyways.

“What was that?” she hisses at him irrtably as Sabal is perfectly content minding his own business going through some of the stuff the Royal Army has left behind. Most of it’s been scattered around and destroyed but what’s left isn’t anything they didn’t already have.

“What was what, sister?” he replies easily. Amita slams her hand down on the stack of papers he’s filing through and he gives her a mild look.

“There was nothing wrong with the truck I sent him to,” she snarls at him.

“No,” Sabal agrees. “And mine was closer.”

“And swarming with men,” Amita snaps.

“That Ajay took care of,” he reminds her sharply.

“Stop interfering with things you have no business in,” she tells him irritably.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you, and only you, run the Golden Path,” Sabal says. He puts his hand over his chest and bows his head sarcastically at her. “I’m so sorry, sister, I’ll remember that next time.”

“Sabal, just because you’re stringing Ajay along-” she begins sharply. She must see the way Sabal looks past her because she stops and turns to look at Ajay approach them instead. He looks between them curiously.

“Ajay!” Amita says with no sign of the previous sourness she held for Sabal. “You did it! We’re reunited with the north again!”

“Indeed, brother, this is a mighty step forward for the Golden Path,” Sabal agrees. “Good work.”

“Thanks,” Ajay replies. “It's good to be on the move again.” He truly wasn't bedridden that long but obviously any amount of time was too long for him. Nonetheless, Sabal is glad to see him up and about, too. Even if he's immediately injured again. That probably only means he's back to his usual self.

“Pagan isn't going to be happy about this,” Amita assures. “You've put us right on his doorstep.”

“We'll have to deal with Yuma first, but after that, you'll have a clear shot at Pagan’s throat,” Sabal says.

“Yeah,” Ajay agrees. He actually seems to be in a better mood lately. It's rather comforting to know he doesn't actually loathe all this. “I'm going to get some rest for now.”

“Good idea,” Sabal replies as he sets some papers down to walk with him. “A rest sounds nice.” Ajay smiles at him but Sabal certainly doesn't miss the cold stare Amita gives him as they head for a relatively private place to sleep. There's not a communal house here but no one's going to bother them, especially now. Somewhere else someone else is celebrating this but for now, they need to be on their guard in case Pagan tries to retake the bridge.

While Ajay cleans some of his wounds a little better, Sabal makes an effort to make their makeshift bed a little less uncomfortable. The good it does is minimum but it's sleepable anyways. He lays down and shortly after, Ajay joins him. Unlike usual, Ajay doesn't box himself into an awkward position and then immediately fall asleep like a dead animal. Instead, he moves close into Sabal, kissing him faintly before slotting against him comfortably. Ajay sets his watch behind Sabal’s back.

Sabal can't help but think of Sarang.

“Ajay,” he says quietly and Ajay hums back acknowledgement. “I suppose this is an odd question but, you are happy, right? Together?” There's a long silence that speaks more than Ajay ever has. Pressed together like this, Sabal can feel Ajay's heart much too clearly. He's warm and it makes the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements much less noticeable.

“Is something wrong?” Ajay asks. “I like being together, yeah.” That is distinctly not the question he asked. Maybe ‘happy’ wasn't the right way to phrase something in a time of war. Maybe he thinks he doesn't know Sabal enough.

“You wouldn't prefer someone like Sarang?” he asks.

“Sarang?” Ajay repeats. “Sabal, I- are you jealous?”

“If I was jealous, I'd say so,” Sabal scoffs back mildly. “I was just curious. It seems to always fall on me to ‘initiate’ anything- ‘intimate’. If you don't like-” he trails off.

“That's what this is about?” Ajay says, almost sounding amused. “I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for, Sabal. I figured you were more the leader type, anyways.”

“Yes, well,” Sabal says, trying not to bristle. “I know you're busy, we both are, but if you ever want _more_ , I'm open, brother.” Ajay laughs quietly.

“I'll keep that in mind,” he assures. “If it makes you feel better, Sarang was the one that approached me, too. I don't exactly go around flirting with guys twice my size and hoping for the best.” More insinuations of violence. Where is all of this happening? Behind Sabal’s back? Under thinly laced lies of something else?

“I suppose not,” Sabal murmurs. It's quiet again.

“Busy today, then?” Ajay asks quietly after a few minutes listening to the bustle of soldiers not distant enough to be muffled but not close enough to be bothersome.

“As always,” Sabal answers softly. “We still must decide what to do with Shanath but for now, it seems people are just as content watching the Royal Army get torn apart instead.” He feels Ajay flinch. He knows better now how Noore died and Sabal regrets his phrasing. He presses on. “But, Amita has been dealing with that. I spent the day rearranging some of our men to move into the north. I imagine you'll be eager to get to clearing more outposts, right brother?”

“Yeah, there's a lot of Royal Army out here,” Ajay murmurs. “More than I expected and better equipped.”

“Nothing you can't deal with,” Sabal assures, thoughtlessly petting Ajay's back.

“No, it'll just take a little more time,” he replies. Sabal almost laughs. Ajay says ‘more time’ but they've been at this war for years- decades. What Ajay considers ‘more’ is really nothing they're impatient for. When Sabal says more, he means weeks or months or longer. When Ajay says it, it means _hours_ sometimes. A handful of days if he's really slow.

“You're truly something else, you know that brother?” Sabal says. “I-” He realises, quite suddenly, that Ajay is asleep. It wasn't that important. Listening to all the soldiers moving and patrolling around the base, Sabal tries to join him. He sleeps so easily, Sabal will never understand. Time passes.

\- x -

The same as in the south, Ajay clears the north. It's slower, sure, but inevitable. Everyday their front lines move closer and closer to Pagan’s front door. The temple comes up. Sabal and Amita don't so much argue about it as they do glare at each other whenever it happens to come up.

People need hope, people need the comfort of the Tarun Matara. The next obvious choice for the temple is to crown Bhadra Tarun Matara like they should have if not for the Royal Army occupying Jalendu. With Ajay, though, making a move on it will be simple. If Sabal knows Amita at all, she won't see reason. He doesn't know what she is planning but he knows it won't be anything good. He also knows she's going to make it sound as reasonable and ‘forward thinking’ as she always does, especially for Ajay.

Sabal worries Ajay doesn't understand their culture enough to truly see how important it is to instate Bhadra as Kyrat’s spiritual leader.

For now, it waits.

“Sabal,” Ajay calls to him quietly and honestly, Sabal is just happy to have an out to this conversation. Ever since Ajay took that damn factory for Amita it's been harder and harder for him to keep control of everything he needs to. Traitorous dogs go behind his back to bend to Amita’s wishes and the foolish and ignorant follow them without seeing their mistakes. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid.

Amita is more aggressive than ever.

If Sabal can crown Bhadra, though, that will be the swift end to any doubt that he leads the Golden Path.

“Your puppet calls, Sabal,” Amita says scathingly and Sabal gives her a cold look before pushing away from the table. He approaches Ajay and walks with him somewhere else. At least it's clear to both of them who Ajay is with. Amita knows she's in a losing fight and she's only clawing to stay upright anymore.

“Is something wrong, brother?” Sabal asks. Ajay seems upset, distressed almost, but not in any way Sabal has seen him before. He doesn't get an answer right away. Ajay looks at him quietly. “Ajay?”

“Sabal,” Ajay replies and he sighs. He stops walking and Sabal turns to face him. “You need to read this.” The journal Ajay hands him is familiar, of course, but not new.

“Mohan’s journal?” Sabal says questioningly. “Ajay-”

“I've found the missing pages,” Ajay says. Sabal’s heart simultaneously sinks and flies. “There's some torn bits and some of them are, uh, not legible but it doesn't really matter. This is- just- let me know when you're done.” This journal, worn and battered but complete, Sabal spent far longer looking for it than he should have before eventually giving up. _Having_ to give up. This is a turning point for the Golden Path, Mohan’s own words ready to be spread to the people. If this can't convince Amita, can't convince _Ajay_ , that Mohan had the right idea, he can't imagine anything will.

Ajay looks at the journal in his hands, solemn almost, and Sabal’s heart only sinks. He's read it already. What is in here? Sabal opens it quickly and Ajay sighs as he walks away, back to speak with Amita. Sabal finds somewhere private to sit while he reads.

And reads.

And reads.

This isn't a journal, this is a descent into stress induced madness. Some of these things Sabal already knew distantly and this journal elaborates on them in a way he perhaps preferred they didn't. The longer he reads the more frantic and manic it gets, though. Constant failings against Pagan’s forces, constant fighting with Ishwari, the loss of so many people he loved and cared for, it tore him apart slowly but surely. The Mohan from the beginning of this journal Sabal knows well, one he admires and has based his entire political stance and future on.

The Mohan at the end? Sabal doesn't know.

He doesn't know what to do with this information but he knows for a fact, this journal was lost for a good reason. Amita _can not_ know about this. No one can. She would turn this into a shining beacon of Mohan’s shame. It ends abruptly, of course, with what is surely a personal letter to his son and before that, a threat on Ishwari’s life. Ajay was right, Ishwari had an affair, and Mohan suffered for it. Pagan sent Yuma to kill him then, before he could kill Ishwari and in turn, Ishwari fled. She fled from Mohan, from Pagan Min, from the Golden Path, the cause, Kyrat and Kyra herself.

And Mohan- Sabal can not say he deserved it but with what he had done, with the madness that had taken him, it was not unjust. He had full intention of killing Ishwari, of killing the Tarun Matara, all for something he made her do? He threw her at Pagan Min and expected what back? Not only her but Ajay, too? Even now, Sabal can't say he believes this ‘affair’, not when he knows Pagan Min and not when he has read this manic retelling.

Has he gone mad?

“Ajay,” Sabal says into his radio. He meets silence. “I've read it.”

“On my way,” Ajay replies. Sabal has half a mind to chuck this journal in the nearest fire and forget everything he's read today. Everything he knows about Mohan has shifted dramatically now. There are things Amita is right about, not many but poignant and dangerous. There are things Sabal is right about, too, in ways he never wanted to be. Even Mohan’s own words couldn't disguise how violently he only wanted Ishwari, the _fucking_ Tarun Matara, to obey.

An elephant can not have two heads, he learned that from Mohan and even now, Sabal believes it, but it's not for the same reasons. A leader needs support, needs constructive disagreement, that's exactly why Sabal craves Ajay's company, but Mohan simply wanted- absolute control. Even worse, Sabal can _see_ that in himself, now. He can see how his inability to agree with anything Amita says comes across as a sheer disgust to be challenged and not a vehement distaste for Amita’s methods.

He can see how having no patience, no mercy, for ‘traitors’ comes across as cruel instead of-? Instead of what? Sabal not wanting to deal with anyone who won't blindly trust in him? Is he really categorizing people who follow Amita with the same sort of ignorant people who thought Pagan Min would spare them? Did _those_ people deserve it?

Sabal is staring too intensely at the journal cover to notice Ajay approach him. He only looks up when Ajay puts his hand on it. He's so disoriented and- confused. Are _any_ of his ideals sound? Sane? When did Mohan really start to lose it? Ajay tries to take the journal from him and instinctively, Sabal tightens his grip at once. It takes him a second to realise this and he just as quick lets go. Ajay puts the journal away but its words are burned into Sabal’s mind.

“Are you okay, Sabal?” Ajay asks softly. Sabal fears he is not and not just because of the journal. Did Kyra really send Ajay here? Or is he right? Is Ajay only here for his own selfish desire to burn and kill his way to what his mother wants? To not disappoint her again?

Would Kyra _really_ tell him to manipulate Mohan’s son with his body like some whore?

“Sabal,” Ajay repeats, touching his face with his gloved hand. Sabal flinches away. “Sabal, I'm sorry.”

“Why did you show me this?” Sabal demands. “Did you show Amita?”

“You needed to know this,” Ajay insists. He sits beside him but Sabal stands immediately, putting distance between them and forcing Ajay to his feet again. “You needed to know this more than I did, Sabal. Mohan- Sabal, Mohan wasn't flawless. Just because you loved him doesn't mean-”

“I did _not_ love him,” Sabal snarls. “Not in the way you _imply_. I _respected_ him, I respected his vision and what he did for Kyrat. I _understood_ what he wanted for the Golden Path. He did what he felt he had to.” Ajay frowns briefly before his expression becomes more hardened.

“Is this the blood Kyra demands, Sabal?” he asks coldly. “A defenseless infant?”

“Pagan Min’s _heir_ ,” Sabal replies harshly. “Don't misunderstand me, brother, I do not agree with what he did but I understand _why_ he did it. This war drove him insane in the end but what he stood for is just as righteous as it ever was. Maybe now you understand how Pagan’s lies twist people, brother, even strong people like your father. Ishwari was _always_ Mohan’s weak spot and Pagan _knew_ that. If not for Ishwari-”

“ _Stop_ ,” Ajay snaps at him and it's so sudden, so violent, it actually catches Sabal off guard. “If my mother hadn't simply _existed_ , the whole war would be better, _I know_. Everyone she ever came close to, she made weak, is that it? She broke Pagan Min, she broke Mohan, and because of that, she broke _you_. I fucking get it.”

“Ajay,” Sabal says. That is not what he meant and Ajay knows it. Surely he knows it.

“Sabal, do not speak of my mother again,” Ajay says with an iciness that rivals even an avalanche. It is a threat, one Sabal understands well and one he isn't keen on tempting. “Sabal, I'm _sorry_ the man you idolized turned out to be not as great as you thought but you have to let go. What Mohan ‘stood for’ is going to ruin this country.”

“You've truly been convinced of that, have you?” Sabal growls. “By Amita? By Pagan? By _Noore_?”

“What I've been ‘convinced’ of is how horrible of an idea it is to _burn_ an entire country’s future for the sake of being ‘pure’. What I've been ‘convinced’ of is how pathetic it is that the Golden Path only _finally_ let women join, despite being every ounce the soldier men are, because you _literally_ couldn't find anyone else. What I've been ‘convinced’ of, Sabal? Is how terrible it is to take away a _child’s_ _life_ ; religiously, physically, _mentally_. And now that you mention it, I think I'm pretty ‘convinced’ you can't possibly imagine I can think for myself,” Ajay _snarls_ back at him.

“And the schools, Ajay? The labor laws? The trade agreements? Are those going to ruin our country, too?” Sabal asks. Ajay looks away, a bitter smile on his face larger than any sincere smile Sabal usually gets.

“Sabal, believe it or not, Amita wants those things too but I guess you wouldn't know that since you never _fucking_ listen,” Ajay replies.

“I have listened to enough of Amita’s _bullshit_ to know when she is lying!” Sabal snaps. “She will sacrifice everything today for crumbs tomorrow! She will kill her own for a _possibility_ of information! What do think she'll do with a country!”

“What do you think Mohan would?” Ajay asks sharply. Sabal fumes but he does not answer. “What would you, Sabal? You haven't been honest with me, either. When did this go to far for you?”

“What?” Sabal answers, trying to keep his voice from wavering. How long has Ajay known?

“This war, the Golden Path, Mohan- when was it too much?” Ajay asks again, quieter this time. This isn't what Sabal thought this was about. “Being here in Kyrat speaks louder than you or Amita ever could. People talk about the person you used to be, you know. When did this war break _you_ , Sabal? How long until it drives you ‘insane’?”

“Even if it does,” Sabal bites. “I will do _whatever_ -”

“It takes to assure a better Kyrat?” Ajay finishes. Sabal stiffens. “Do you see it now, Sabal? Do you see how you're becoming what you've idolized so long?”

“Ajay,” he says.

“Don't,” Ajay replies coldly. “Don't talk to me until you've figured shit out on your own. You obviously don't want my help. I'm just everyone else's puppet, right?”

“ _Ajay_ ,” Sabal says more urgently as, once again, Ajay walks away from him upset. He can still feel the journal in his hands, heavy and damning. He fights to defend Mohan's honor time and time again but this time, he's not even sure why. This was supposed to be easy. Kyra is supposed to guide him.

Sabal feels more lost than ever.


	12. Truth

It's actually hard to pin Ajay down this time, as if he's being avoided. Sabal isn't sure if this is paranoia, him being impatient, or if Ajay really is trying to avoid him. After what happened, it's not all that surprising, honestly. In the end, Sabal finds him as he usually does, in a communal house somewhere, working on something. Ajay's sat with his back to the door, sharpening the blade of his khukri by the fire. By the way he moves, he's heard someone come in but it doesn't disturb him.

“Ajay,” Sabal says. Now he's disturbed. Ajay pauses then sighs deeply. For a brief moment, he turns his khukri enough to see Sabal in its reflection before going back to sharpening it. The harsh metallic sound cuts through the room.

“Sabal,” Ajay replies. “Did you sort yourself out?”

“I did,” Sabal assures like a punished child of all things. A part of him wonders when it become common place to let Ajay speak to him like this.

“And?” Ajay asks.

“You want an apology,” Sabal says. Ajay somehow manages to sigh even louder. He shakes his head, turning his khukri over in his hand but saying nothing more. His silence alone marks the end of their conversation but Sabal isn't done. He's also done the wise thing this time and blocked the door with his body. “Am I wrong, brother?”

“I don't want your apology if you're only making it because you know I want to hear it, _brother_ ,” Ajay answers and the way he spits ‘brother’ back into his face irks Sabal something fierce.

“I don't have anything to be sorry about,” Sabal assures. Again, Ajay pauses. This time, he looks over his shoulder, that neutral expression that scorns him now. He gets up, wiping the blade of his khukri clean in the process. “You're not going to listen to me, now?”

“Why should I?” Ajay scoffs back.

“That journal turned my entire world upside down, Ajay. I think my response was well within reason,” Sabal says. “I don't want to argue with you anymore, I hate it. I heard what you said. I didn't mean to refuse your help, for that I will apologise, but beyond that- I still believe what Mohan stood for even if at the end, Mohan didn't.” Ajay frowns at him.

“I’m waiting,” he says pointedly, obviously ready to hear more.

“What your father ‘stood’ for wasn't blindly being ‘pure’, as you put it. Nor was it being stuck in the past with aging ideals. He wanted Kyrat to be united and strong, strong enough to take back our country and rebuild it under Kyra’s watchful eye. Tradition and progress do not have to be enemies, Ajay,” Sabal urges. “To move forward, we do not have to throw away our culture.”

“I'm not asking you to, Sabal,” Ajay replies pointedly.

“I know,” Sabal says quickly. “I know and I listened. I thought a lot about some of the things your father did that I blindly followed and I really thought about _why_ I followed them. We have to compromise sometimes, even I can see that.”

“That's- that's good, Sabal,” Ajay says, a little gentler now.

“This war has changed me, you're right, but it won't break me. Not while I have you, Ajay. When all is said and done, I want Kyrat to be a country you can see yourself in. That you _want_ to stay in,” Sabal urges. Ajay swallows. “Thank you for showing me Mohan’s journal. Even if I reacted violently, I did need to know. I _won't_ make the same mistakes.”

“Sabal,” he repeats again and sighs with a sort of softer sound. “I'm glad you thought so much about this. It, uh, it means a lot to me. I didn't mean to shock you so much but I don't want to see you end up like Mohan.”

“No, no, it's okay, brother,” Sabal assures. Ajay approaches him quietly and Sabal leans in to kiss him. “If not for you, for this, I _don't_ know what would have become of me. That's unacceptable.”

“You know you don't have to get rid of your traditions, right?” Ajay says quietly. “Or your culture. Just because things change doesn't mean they're gone. I've talked with Amita-” Sabal tenses viciously. “And she understands that, too. You two don't have to fight all the time.”

“Ajay, there is much about me that has changed since you arrived here and you have been a great influence on Kyrat and I both, but there are some things even I can not manage,” Sabal says.

“I didn't say you had to agree with her, I only said you don't have to fight,” Ajay scoffs, almost amused sounding. “You two want the same thing, you know, you just have very different ways of going about it.”

“Amita and I _do not_ -” he begins and Ajay kisses him hard just to shut him up.

“ _Okay_ ,” Ajay says quickly. “Sorry I ‘offended’. Still, it means a lot to me that you value my opinion so much.”

“You know I don't think you're a puppet, don't you, brother?” Sabal asks quietly. Ajay laughs a little. “I never meant to suggest-”

“It's okay,” he says. “Neither of us are very good at giving reasons to our decisions, clearly.” Ajay kisses him again. Sabal is honestly glad this went as well as it did. He knows now, perhaps he's always known, there was no way he'd be able to rally Ajay behind Mohan’s dream. Kyra, of course, knew that. Ajay is far more interested in Sabal’s dream and perhaps Sabal is, too. Mistakes are still mistakes and Mohan made many of them at the end.

Sabal does not want that to be his end.

“We're- okay?” Sabal asks.

“We're okay,” Ajay agrees.

“I- also need you to know I was being honest, I didn't, and _don't_ , have romantic feelings for Mohan,” Sabal says. “You're not his replacement. ‘Son of Mohan’ is not Mohan.”

“Sabal, I know it's hard for someone like you to come to terms with liking men but I hope you know it's completely okay if you _did_ love him,” Ajay replies. “ _You're_ okay.” _You're okay_. Where has he heard that before? “Even if he was kind of a cunt.”

“I _didn't_ ,” Sabal stresses again. “But thank you.” Ajay laughs. He _didn't_ have a thing for Mohan. Why does everyone think that? They kiss more and it's sort of comforting now, a vast difference from when they began and Sabal had to do everything in his ability not to flinch.

Sabal doesn't know when his dread became craving or Ajay's company turned from anxiety inducing to easing. He doesn't know when he got used to the hands on thighs or Ajay's voice in his ear or the warm body slotted beside him in bed. He's always thought highly of Ajay, of who he is and what he's done, but Sabal doesn't know when that turned into _longing_.

“Are you familiar with ‘make up sex’?” Ajay asks in a way that sounds quietly mischievous.

“Yes?” Sabal answers curiously.

“If that previous offer is still on the table, I have some time now,” he offers. Sabal inherently swallows.

“Yeah, I believe I do as well,” he agrees. He doesn't know when the stressful anticipation for this became something more- enjoyable. Ajay guides him to the bed and Sabal sits beside him as they kiss, tongues on teeth and hands slowly taking paths less traveled.

Sabal can't help but think of Mohan again. How _would_ Mohan feel about this? Did he share Sabal’s sentiment of men liking other men being bizarre but harmless? Or was he more along the lines of not asking and hoping no one told him? Or were there thinly veiled lies and looser terms of ‘defilers’. He wants to think it doesn't matter but-

Would Mohan even respect his own son?

Ajay leads, as usual, beyond a certain point. Sabal is too dumb and new at this to know what his options are let alone what he actually wants. In his mind, he knows he _does_ like this, want it, but it's a thought that only makes him feel guilty and sick so he never lingers on it long. It's easier to lie and assure himself this is only a necessity of the path Kyra’s chosen for him.

One piece at a time, they undress. It's the first time they've actually been naked while doing this and Sabal can see just how much of Ajay is scarred now. Less than he thought but more than he hoped. So many of them are new, fresh. Some of them from today, even. Ajay seems to take the same amount of consideration to Sabal’s body. They trace one another with fingertips and hands. Sabal tries not to handle Ajay's dick like he doesn't know what the actual fuck he's doing but it's hard and Ajay doesn't seem to care, anyways. Ajay's rough fingers are much more tactical.

With small gestures, pulls and pushes Sabal doesn't even notice, they lay down. Fortunately people tend not to stray into communal houses when Ajay occupies them, starstruck maybe, so Sabal doesn't worry about the door. People already assume this happens anyways, he supposes.

“Here,” Ajay murmurs against him as he painstakingly takes his lips away and instead wraps his arm around Sabal’s neck and rolls over. “Like this,” he urges. Sabal isn’t sure how to move and as such, mostly doesn’t. This isn’t new, either. Ajay moves into him, his back pressed against Sabal’s chest, and he guides Sabal’s cock between his thighs. The way he squeezes his legs together makes Sabal jolt, a quiet hiss slipping between his clenched teeth.

“Ajay,” he groans and Ajay rocks against him with deliberate little movements. Sabal rests a hand on Ajay’s hip and after a moment, adjusts to instead help him stroke his own cock and Ajay groans back appreciatively. It feels closer this time, like he can feel Ajay’s heavy breathing and quickly beating heart to his core or maybe it’s always been like this and he was just too busy to notice before.

Every grind of his hips rubs the head of Sabal’s cock against Ajay’s sack, a unique feel that Sabal finds hard to adjust to. He kisses Ajay's neck and tries to stroke his dick better, mimicking the little twists and swipes of his fingers like Ajay has done on him so many times. It doesn't go unnoticed and Ajay’s hips stutter with every breath. The room is full of nothing but the sounds of their groans and pants and the slick noise of skin on skin. Everything sounds so close.

Sabal bites into Ajay's neck, more to try to distract himself, but earns a hot rasp of a noise for it. He's overcome by the idea of leaving a mark on him, not where anyone can see but where Sabal knows. He doesn't know how Ajay will take it, if he'll be insulted or offended, but Sabal isn't sure he cares, either. Ajay makes such a lewd noise when Sabal sinks his teeth in and shudders at the tongue that follows the indented marks left behind.

“Sabal,” Ajay grunts feverishly, his thighs clenching and flexing wonderfully around Sabal’s dick. Sabal bites harder, not enough to puncture skin, he doesn't want to give Ajay another scar, doesn't think that is his right, but more than firm enough to leave a mouth shaped bruise. He's not sure if it's Ajay that quickens his movements or Sabal, but they become more energetic and more frantic as they peak together.

Sabal comes suddenly, painting Ajay's thighs with streaks of cum that only ends up smeared between them as Ajay ruts his hips more. With a few more urgent strokes, Ajay isn't far behind. There's a moment where they only breath, a brief moment of bliss before that weird shame takes Sabal again and he wants to push Ajay away and probably never see him again. He looks at the bite mark he's left behind, pressed into Ajay's skin right above one of his shoulder blades and he regrets it now.

Sabal hates feeling like this.

“Good?” Ajay asks between quiet pants.

“Of course,” Sabal assures. “As always.” Ajay touches the spot Sabal’s left behind, it's probably sore already with how hard he clamped down, but he makes no comment about it.

“Sabal, I, uh,” Ajay murmurs, adjusting to get more comfortable against him. “This is weird, sorry.”

“It's not,” Sabal replies. “I enjoyed it.”

“No, not that,” Ajay scoffs back. Sabal looks at him inquisitively but Ajay is tucked away, facing away. “Nevermind.”

“Ajay,” Sabal says softly, kissing a spot behind his ear.

“I like you a lot, Sabal,” he says, almost like he's unsure of it himself.

“And I like you, Ajay,” he agrees.

“Yeah,” Ajay sighs. Sabal feels like he's missing something again. When Ajay falls asleep, it doesn't take long, Sabal gets dressed again and heads out. He needs to pray.

\- x -

“A body double?” Sabal repeats.

“Yeah,” Ajay answers slowly. Both he and Amita stare at him, not fully sure what to do about this situation. Ajay just sits, more or less quietly, with the weird blonde wig in his hands. Sabal supposes he brought it back with him as proof but honestly, they don't have proof the real Pagan Min doesn't wear a wig.

“You mistook someone else for Pagan Min?” Amita asks. It's not that either of them are angry, regardless the man Ajay had killed was certainly not on their side, they just don't quite understand what happened.

“You know what a body double is, right?” Ajay murmurs. “It wasn't just some dude in a Pagan Min costume.”

“Right,” Sabal says. “And he looked enough like the real Pagan Min that you- mistook him for the real thing, brother?”

“Yeah,” Ajay says again. “He, uh, he was a really good look-a-like.” He lifts the wig slightly as if to prove his point somehow.

“Pagan Min spent a lot of money making another man look like him?” Amita asks. “And it fooled you from- five feet away?”

“See, when you say it like that it sounds like bullshit,” Ajay says. He sees where they're coming from, then. Sabal isn't sure what they do about this, if anything. A man is dead for the crime of looking like Pagan? Perhaps he's better off, in retrospect. This sounds like a situation that's solved itself to him.

“Can you put that down now, it's weird,” Amita assures, gesturing to the wig. Seemingly realising this himself, Ajay hastily tosses it aside and rubs his hands on his jeans. “Well, nevertheless, you took care of whoever that was. We shouldn't have expected Pagan to be out of his palace, anyways.”

“Agreed,” Sabal says. “Let's hope he doesn't have anymore of these, uh, ‘body doubles’.”

“Now that we've made contact with the north again, we can take out Yuma,” Amita moves on, clearly having enough of whatever weird conversation this was. Ajay sighs but he's quick to focus on the task at hand, anyways.

“She's not going to make it easy,” Sabal says. “Starting with locating her.”

“Any ideas where to start?” Ajay asks.

“Unfortunately not,” Amita murmurs. “We'll have to be extremely careful. Even if anyone _does_ find her, I doubt they'll live long enough to tell us.”

“Hitting her fortress would drive her out,” Sabal suggests.

“There's no way we can get near Ratu Gadhi with her still alive,” Amita scoffs. “It's impenetrable.”

“We said that about Varshakot,” Sabal reminds her and he gestures to Ajay with one hand. “Ajay proved us wrong.”

“Paul’s fortress wasn't swarming with snipers and men twice Ajay's size,” she snaps. “Sending him in there by himself is suicidal and we can't risk anyone going with him.”

“I work better on my own, anyways,” Ajay comments. “Other people would just end up hurt.”

“Or spotted,” Sabal agrees. “If we wait until Yuma is dead, they'll destroy any intel we could have gotten from that place on the spot. Ajay has made his pattern fairly obvious.”

“Oh, now you care about the intel?” Amita asks in the fake ‘lady-like’ voice she does when she wants to guilt trip someone into feeling sorry for her.

“Now you care about the people that die to get it?” Sabal replies, a softer voice he knows she hates just as much. They glower at each other.

“Yuma wouldn't keep her intel in Ratu Gadhi, anyways, especially not after she's seen Ajay hit Varshakot and Baghadur. She's too smart for that,” Amita says. “It'll be better if we clear some of the north, first, give her less places to hide.”

“Yuma doesn't _hide_ ,” Sabal scoffs. “That will only give her more reason to launch counter attacks.”

“Then we'll find out where she is, won't we?” she assures pointedly. Sabal slams his fist into the table.

“We're not risking more Golden Path lives just so we can _maybe_ catch a _glimpse_ of Yuma,” he sneers.

“But you want to risk sending Ajay into her fortress!” Amita snaps back.

“Ajay can handle himself!” Sabal barks.

“So can our soldiers!” Amita shouts.

“Yuma’s not going to come to her fortress just because I take it,” Ajay murmurs. Amita gives Sabal a smug look. “And she's not going to care if we start taking back the north.” Sabal gives her a smug look in reply even if Ajay is only telling them they're both wrong. He does seem to have a point, though. “Yuma’s been interested in the mines, I'll bet she'll be in one of those. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to go looking for her, though, that would just put people in danger.”

“There's mines all over the north,” Sabal comments.

“But it's a start,” Amita murmurs.

“She'll come out,” Ajay assures. “In the meantime, I need to clear the outposts. Allowing Royal Army men to keep occupying towns isn't going to help anyone.” Sabal and Amita exchange looks before begrudgingly agreeing. They should know better than to get ahead of themselves this late in the war. Ajay keeps them thinking straight.

“If you think that's what's best, brother,” Sabal says.

“Yes, it'll give us time to organize our plan of attack,” Amita agrees. Ajay gives them a look like he knows they're just waiting for him to leave so they can argue again. That may or may not be true.

“Alright. I need a nap after that,” Ajay says as he gets up, scrubbing his hands over his face. “A long, long nap.”

What's long to Ajay isn't long to anyone else.


	13. Payback

Sabal and Amita argue much less when they're in agreement. They talk less, too. It's hard to shake the feeling that this is a trap and sending Ajay in there was a mistake. Did they really have a choice? They didn't, no, Ajay would have gone whether they told him to or not. The longer he is away, the less Sabal likes the decision to let him go on his own.

Yuma would have fled, though. There's no way she would have stayed around if they had sent a group with him. Ajay and her have something to settle, whatever that may be, and maybe it is best left between the two of them but that doesn't help the uneasy feeling Sabal gets as time ticks away. The sudden normality of Ajay not checking in for hours at a time is excruciating.

How long would it take them to realise he's dead? Is there really a possibility of him losing to Yuma? Would she gloat? Sabal has a gory vision of Yuma emerging from the KEO mines with Ajay's bloodied and battered head. He tries to ease himself, remember that Pagan views Ajay as a son, but this thought helps very little. Not only did he put Ajay in Durgesh but Yuma is- potentially not aligned with Pagan’s wants.

“What's wrong with you?” Amita asks mildly. It's hard to tell if she's being sarcastic, another jab at the relationship with Ajay she doesn't believe in, or if her inherent dislike of him simply makes an honest question sound scathing. He's not sure if that should be his concern or the fact that she visibly can see he's distressed.

“You may be fine with getting Ajay killed but I have reason enough to be worried about his well being,” Sabal assures her sourly. She gives him a nasty look.

“I trust in Ajay's ability to get the job done,” Amita says sharply as if Sabal doesn't. He's seen Ajay live through too much to die at the hands of Yuma but it's not Ajay's ability that worries him; it's Yuma’s. She stares at him and Sabal irritably looks back at her.

“Put your faith in what you will,” Sabal says. “And I shall do the same.” If she believes in anything at all, it's herself, and through some bizarre means, Ajay. Sabal makes his way out of the tent. He needs somewhere more private to pray.

“Sabal,” Amita calls to his back. Sabal pauses, considers not stopping to listen, but remembers how _easy_ it is for people to misconstrue his intentions, how Amita really believes he wants nothing more than to be a dictator; another king.

“What can I do for you, sister?” he replies, more bitter than he means it to be.

“He'll be okay, Sabal,” she says. She's trying to be comforting? Reassuring? He doesn't know what she's trying to pull and honestly, he isn't interested in trying to unpack it right now.

“By Kyra it will be so,” Sabal agrees. She says nothing as he leaves.

\- x -

Yuma is dead and Pagan Min signed her death warrant. This is suspicious but not particularly surprising. For a while now they've had intel suggesting that Yuma had defected to, well, her own side- away from Pagan. It's as unsurprising that Pagan killed her for it as it is that she abandoned him in the first place. All that matters is that it's done. Ajay handled it, he always does, and they're so close to a free Kyrat. Closer than they've _ever_ been.

Sabal is more worried about Ajay. Ever since he finished Yuma off he's been acting funny. Paired with how frantic he was to find Bhadra and make sure with his own two eyes that she was okay, Sabal has no idea what happened in that mine. What did Yuma tell him? What did Ajay find? Pagan has threatened Bhadra before, he holds a distaste for the Tarun Matara and their religion despite his ‘relationship’ with Ishwari, but he's never acted on it. He has no way to especially now that Yuma is dead.

Even after Ajay was assured, by Bhadra herself, that she was fine, he still seemed off. He was quiet before but for the last few days he's been absolutely silent. It's the usual ‘go out, get work done, come back’ but he doesn't tell them, only lets them find out through other soldiers, and he just goes right to sleep upon returning. Sabal _knows_ it's to avoid him, and likely Amita as well, because instead Ajay is up in the middle of the night to care for his equipment- when everyone else is sleeping.

It's very apparent Yuma did something to him; her swan song.

Sabal is distracted from his thoughts by his radio. It's Ajay but this isn't how Sabal expected to hear from him.

“-that's not what we're talking about,” Ajay says. He sounds angry or maybe just frustrated. It's hard to tell sometimes. “Promise me Bhadra is going to be safe.”

“Ajay, you've _seen_ her, she's _fine_ ,” Amita replies. She definitely sounds irritated. “There are perfectly competent people watching her. I don't know what you want.” What is this about?

“I want you to promise me she's going to be safe, Amita,” Ajay repeats, more forcibly this time. “When this war is over, what happens to her?”

“Well if Sabal has anything to say about it, she gets to be a little figure head and his-” Amita says, never more than a few sentences away from tearing Sabal’s name to shreds.

“We're not talking about Sabal!” Ajay snaps. This is a lot angrier than Sabal has ever heard him- or made him. What did Amita do? Or what is she planning that Ajay found out about? “Bhadra, what happens to her?” A brief moment of silence.

“Like I said,” Amita repeats. “If she's made Tarun Matara-”

“ _I don't care about the Tarun Matara_ ,” Ajay barks at her.

“Ajay, I'm _trying_ to give you an answer,” Amita insists. “What do you want?”

“What are _you_ going to do with Bhadra after this war, Amita?” Ajay says like his teeth are clenched and his jaw stiff. “Not Sabal, _not_ the temple, _you_.” Again, Amita doesn't say anything for much too long.

“You're suggesting it matters what I have planned,” she finally says. Unfortunately, she makes a point. Sabal is still dealing with the aftermath of Ajay actually siding with her to take that fucking brick factory.

“Fine,” Ajay replies shortly. “ _Fine_. Don't tell me. I'll tell you. If anything happens to Bhadra-” he pauses but Sabal can't tell why. Then he repeats, “if anything happens to Bhadra, something happens to you.” An even longer pause. Sabal can practically hear them staring at each other.

“You're threatening me, Ajay?” Amita asks, that soft kind of voice she reserves especially for Ajay and especially when she wants Ajay to feel bad for her. “It's not enough that you've danced for Sabal this entire time-”

“This is not about Sabal,” Ajay repeats again, cold and unwavering.

“When did you take it upon yourself to decide what happens to Bhadra?” Amita asks.

“When everyone else made it clear they don't care about her,” Ajay snaps back. “She's just a girl. She doesn't deserve any of this. I've made myself clear, too.”

“You don't have to threaten me,” Amita says. “Ajay, I promise you, Bhadra will be safe if everything goes well.” Sabal hears a muffled noise, he can't tell if it's a sigh or a scoff of a laugh.

“You've lied to me so much, Amita,” he says.

“It was _necessary_ ,” Amita urges. “You didn't understand. I'm sorry, Ajay, I really am, but you know just as well as I do, the truth sounds nastier than Sabal’s decorated ‘white’ lies. You _know_ I couldn't trust you.”

“I really, really hope you're telling me the truth this time,” Ajay says with that coldness that's becoming all too familiar now a days. “For your sake.” His radio flickers off. What was this about? Sabal hasn't recently heard of Amita planning anything behind his back which, honestly, silence is more worrying than yelling. Did Ajay find out through Yuma? Could Yuma have had better intel?

Even Amita wouldn't dare do anything to Bhadra. Not with him around, not with _Ajay_ around. Would she otherwise? Sabal doesn't know. Something has obviously put Ajay on this path and it can't be anything good.

They need to crown Bhadra more than ever.

“Sabal,” his radio says urgently. “I hope you heard all that.”

“I did, brother,” Sabal assures. “Do you know what set this off?”

“No, I only happened across them by mistake,” he says.

“Very well. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Could Ajay honestly be thinking of siding with Amita?

\- x -

If Sabal even wants to _mention_ the temple or crowning Bhadra, he has to figure out what’s wrong with Ajay. This is easier said than done. Ajay has made it abundantly clear that he wants Bhadra’s safety, and being Tarun Matara would assure that, but Sabal doesn’t know how well Ajay will understand this, either. It’s best to hold off until he knows what this is about.

Sabal washes himself in the stream behind the Ghale residence and spends a couple minutes getting some of the more stubborn stains out of his clothes. He stares at the cut on the back, still so keenly aware of where it came from. It’s not his, it never was, and he wonders now if it ever would have been. He knows he should get rid of it, especially now, but he simply can’t bring himself to do it. He doesn’t think he ever will.

It’ll burn off his body before he gets rid of it.

Sabal hears the house door open and close behind him and he takes a couple more minutes to dry off and redress. Quietly, he follows. Of course, the second he enters the house, Ajay looks at him, looks away, and sighs. He shakes his head.

“I need a door lock,” he murmurs to himself.

“Ajay,” Sabal says. “You’ve been acting strangely, brother, what’s wrong?” Again, Ajay just shakes his head. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t say anything, as he pulls his bow off his back and practically throws it on the table before wiping his face on a relatively clean cloth. Sabal takes a step towards him. “If something’s bothering you-”

“Yeah, you know, something is bothering me,” Ajay snaps back at him, a hive ready to swarm that Sabal has already made the mistake of poking. “How many people are you planning on killing?”

“I- what are you talking about?” Sabal asks. Ajay looks at him. That once open, alert expression he always had, hyper vigilant but eager to know, has been replaced with a tired sharpness that knows better, knows exactly where to look to see what he wants- knows where not to look. Ajay isn’t looking at him, he’s staring straight through him.

“You keep talking about what happens after this war, so what does? How many people are you willing to sacrifice in the name of the gods, Sabal? What haven’t _you_ told me?” Ajay demands. Sabal doesn’t know where this has come from. It seems like forever ago that the idea of ‘purifying’ Kyrat had left him and it had never been something he vocally shared with anyone. There were people that knew, of course, people who understood they could only be cleansed with blood, but these people are quiet anyways.

It feels like a distant dream of a man Sabal used to be but he doesn’t know when he stopped being that man.

“Enough people have died in this war, Ajay,” Sabal assures. “I’m not going to be responsible for any more of them.”

“Liar,” Ajay says, cold and cut and- familiar. Ajay looking him dead in the face and calling Sabal a liar when all Sabal was doing was trying to help. “I don’t know why I bothered,” he says. “I knew you were just going to lie to me. You always do.”

“I’m not lying to you,” Sabal says firmly.

“You and Amita both think I’m stupid,” Ajay snaps. “You think I haven’t known from the beginning what you want out of this. A ‘pure’ Kyrat? A ‘ _clean_ ’ Kyrat? Based on what _you_ think the gods what?”

“I’m _not_ lying to you, Ajay,” Sabal repeats. “You claim so often I don’t listen. Please, listen to me.”

“I’ve listened to enough of your bullshit,” Ajay replies, more sharp comments thrown back in his face. Is he really trying to compare him to Amita’s honeyed lies? Has Ajay really come to see him like he sees Amita?

“Ajay,” Sabal says more gentle this time. “I am telling you the truth right now-”

“ _Right now_ ,” Ajay spits viciously.

“I don’t want to kill _anyone_!” Sabal barks. “The truth is, you’re right! There was a time when I thought cleansing Kyrat meant spilling blood, spilling blood of my own _brothers_! I never lied to you about that, Ajay! You never asked! I never told you!”

“I’m well aware it’s my fault, Sabal!” Ajay yells back. No, no, why does he do this? Sabal is so used to twisting his own words to suit his own needs but this- this isn’t what he wants. “I never should have trusted you! I never should have trusted Amita! I was an _idiot_ to think anyone ever wanted to do anything good for anyone!”

“I know better now! _You’ve_ showed me better, Ajay! Don’t you understand that?” Sabal urges.

“After all this, you really want me to believe you’ve _changed_?” Ajay says in such a bitter amusement. “What else have you lied to me about, Sabal?”

“ _You_ changed me, Ajay!” Sabal barks. “You made me see what I was doing to Kyrat! To myself! I didn’t like what I saw and I changed! Is that really so difficult for you to believe?”

“Yeah, Sabal, it is,” Ajay assures. “I’m sorry that after everything, I can’t believe you had a ‘change of heart’ because of me.”

“Because I love you, Ajay!” Sabal shouts. “I had a change of heart because I love you and I _want_ to be someone you can love!” Ajay barks a laugh, so bitter and full of anger and mace.

“You always know exactly what I want to hear, don’t you?” he says quietly. Sabal doesn’t want to yell anymore. “Get out.”

“Ajay, I know I have done things you don’t agree with,” he says firmly, refusing to move from his spot. “I know I have _thought_ things you don’t agree with. I know I’ve hidden my intentions from you because I knew you wouldn’t agree with them, because I thought you were too ignorant to agree with me. _I know_. I am _not_ lying to you right now, Ajay Ghale.” Ajay doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know where this came from, Ajay, or why all of a sudden you’re so- disenchanted but I- I’m so sorry, Ajay,” Sabal says. Slowly, careful almost, he gets down on his knees as if to pray and puts his hands on his knees. “If I have hurt you, I am sorry. I have lied to you and I am sorry. I have misled you and I am sorry. I have exploited your good nature and I am sorry. I am not sorry for loving you, Ajay. If I can’t make you believe that, I fear there is no way for me to rectify the misdeeds I have done to you.”

And it is quiet. Sabal kneels but he does not pray, doesn’t disrespect Ajay by trying to speak to someone else right now, he only waits. He’s not sure when this has happened, when his duty to Kyrat became an honest relationship but he fears it happened too late. He fears even more it doesn’t rightly matter. There is regret, there always will be, but this is Kyra’s will, is it not?

No longer does he know what he’s done for Kyrat, what he’s done for Ajay, and what he’s done for himself. Nor is he sure if there is really any point in differentiating them.

He sees, crystal clear, Ajay putting a bullet in him at the foot of the Jalendu temple for the man he could have become but there is a reason Kyra makes men the way they are and Sabal knows his. Kyra made him to love Ajay and she has guided him, slowly but surely, so he may realise this.

“I believe you,” Ajay says softly. Sabal lets out a relieved little laugh. “Get up, Sabal.” Ajay grabs for him, helping him back to his feet, and kisses him like he used to. “I do love you, okay? This war is almost over. I can’t make you promise me not to lie anymore but- give me some credit, at least.”

For a brief moment, Sabal considers telling Ajay everything. How this began, how his skin used to lurch everytime Ajay touched him, and how he winced with every kiss. How he started this as a man who didn't know, couldn't wrap his head around, liking other men being perfectly okay. He considers telling Ajay the truth, completely and fully, about what he's done that has truly wronged Ajay the most.

He doesn't. He doesn't lie, Ajay doesn't ask, but Sabal simply can't. Ajay wouldn't understand, if he'd even believe, and Sabal has worked too hard to lose him now. No one has to know.

“Okay, Ajay,” Sabal murmurs. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” Ajay assures. “I just- I saw some things I didn't like when Yuma drugged me, okay? I don't know where they came from but they were so- visceral.” All of this because of some hallucinations? Sabal supposes he's in no place to argue but he still can't say for sure how Ajay _knew_.

“And Amita-” Sabal begins.

“I've already spoken to Amita,” Ajay says firmly, a quick finish to a conversation he refuses to have.

“Very well,” Sabal murmurs. He's not going to push, not now. If Ajay so acutely pinpointed his desires, then what does that say about Amita’s? Has she changed just as much? Hopefully they never have to risk that. For the time being, it's clear they're both very tired. They quietly eat and then lay together. Ajay wraps an arm around him and the quiet dark lets Sabal think.

He wonders exactly how much of his life he's lived trying to bed Mohan without realising it.


	14. After me, the flood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! severe injury + wound care

Ajay has relaxed quite a bit now. Apparently whatever was bothering him, these ‘hallucinations’, were eased in a way that allowed them to no longer make him irritable and stressed. He's still Ajay, of course, but Sabal can see how tired he is now a days. Sleeping so little is certainly part of it but this war makes many people tired. They're so close, though.

Sabal has no idea what Amita is planning or when but he knows he needs to act first this time. This will be the last time, he assures himself, the last time he has to try to manipulate Ajay and then they can just have a normal relationship. They have to crown Bhadra before Amita, or anyone else for that matter, makes that physically impossible one way or another.

Everything is happening too fast to try to make Ajay understand properly. Time again he shows, and even admits, he doesn't understand their traditions and doesn't really have a want to. The only thing Ajay could tell him about his trip to the temple was about the Royal Army he fought off and a half said comment about ‘killing goats anyways’. Sabal knows that their culture and traditions changing with the times doesn't mean it's gone, of course, but there's a difference between change and destruction. Amita wants the later and she's already shown this many times before.

Right now they don't need change, they need comfort and guidance and even then, ridding Kyrat of their Tarun Matara all together isn't the change they need. Do certain rituals and ‘rules’ need to be adjusted? Of course, but now is not the time and war is not the place. He needs Ajay to help him with this now and they'll have all of after the war to discuss it in detail.

Sabal tries not to think about how last time, Ajay helped Amita anyways. That was different, he assures himself. Amita made that sound like a good idea to him. Can she make the destruction of such an important tradition sound just as good? Is that even what she's planning? She'd never convince Ajay to do anything to hurt Bhadra.

In the end, it doesn't matter right now. This is no longer just a means to an end. Sabal is still trying to figure out how to go about it, though. How to ask Ajay for anything without actually asking. That idea still makes him uneasy. As does the idea of trying to ‘play the woman’. So far he supposes he has but he tries not to think about that too much.  
  
In the end, he supposes he should have been paying more attention.

It's easy to assume, to hope, that the south is free of all Royal Army men but it's not. There's still stragglers, those hiding and waiting, left to their own devices as minimal threats to be dealt with later. Sabal and the two men he's traveling with are caught off guard. While they make it out alive, of course, Sabal gets a well placed blade for it. It's been awhile since he's been injured like this, so much of his work taking place away from the fighting and even then, he's been lucky enough to get away with minimum injuries.

This _hurts_.

Sabal manages to walk the rest of the way to their destination with some assistance but once there, the pain is too overwhelming for him to stand on his own anymore. He collapses onto the nearest chair and people quickly bustle around to help him. It's not that he hasn't been cut before, of course he has, but it's not like that ever makes it any easier. He pulls his shirt open and he's soaked in blood already, about half of it his own. Ajay has a point, it's easy to ignore the arrows in him with such a deep cut to focus on.

The gash is massive, starting between his neck and shoulder and going straight down all the way to his hip. It's worse at the top but it's hard to tell when he's still just hemorrhaging blood. Sabal wants to make the effort to appear strong, he is the Golden Path’s leader, but he's so disoriented from blood loss he can barely tell which way’s up. A pair of men have to more or less carry him into a nearby house.

People are speaking and Sabal hears them but doesn't understand. He knows he’s not going to die but after the adrenaline has worn off, he's left only with shock and his brain vehemently reminding him his blood should not be on the _outside_. Even as someone who's grown up in this war, who's been injured before, has _seen_ many injuries before, it's hard to adjust to receiving life threatening wounds. There's really no doing it, the only thing Sabal has learned from past experiences is how not to scream as much.

It still hurts. He still bleeds.

Sabal watches as several people have to press down on his wound to stop the bleeding, it's too extensive for just one. He's coherent enough to swat away the person trying to give him painkillers, though. It hurts so much and the idea of it not hurting is very appealing but Sabal can withstand it. They don't have a lot of medical resources in the first place and he knows he can bare this pain enough to leave it to someone else. Sabal prays instead, if not just to have something to focus on.

When they start stitching him closed again, Sabal regrets refusing morphine a little bit. He tries to stay still, it'll be easier on him and everyone else if he does, but that's hard right now. Instead, someone helps hold him down and someone else tries to cool his face. He's not going to pass out.

“Sabal!” Ajay's voice hits him hard. This is much worse. Sabal can pretend to be strong for his own people. They see his injuries and they know they hurt, know he is gritting his teeth and bearing the pain as an example of what the Golden Path is capable of. Ajay, on the other hand, walks off injuries that would kill a lesser man, that would kill _Sabal_. He will only scorn Sabal for refusing painkillers and scorn him more for getting injured in the first place.

“What happened?” Sabal can hear Ajay's voice much easier and that's about it. “ _Shit_. Is he gonna be okay?” He knows he'll be fine. He's suffered much worse with much less help before. There's a lot of blood and he's dizzy but he'll be fine. There's a hand in his, Ajay's, and Sabal squeezes it hard to have something to ground to. He's suddenly aware of how much noise he's actually making when Ajay squeezes him back.

Ajay remains at his side the entire time, doing what he can to help but otherwise just a lingering presence of his hand in Sabal’s. Slowly but surely he's patched up a little bit at a time and the pain doesn't really diminish but it doesn't matter much when Sabal passes out from blood loss eventually anyways.

By the time he comes around again, he's been stitched and cleaned and bandaged. Well, his injuries have been cleaned; he, the bed, and the surrounding area are still heavily stained with his own blood. Sabal can see why he's light headed right now. Nonetheless, he's been taken care of thoroughly and it's not until he moves that he feels that familiar spike of pain.

“Sabal,” Ajay says, rousing from his sleep as Sabal hisses through his teeth. “You're awake.” Sabal sits up slowly, holding his shoulder as he does and trying not to rattle himself too much. It still hurts a lot and he can feel his skin complain against the stitches holding him together. He's popped stitches before and doesn't relish doing it again. Ajay takes his hand and Sabal looks at him. This is familiar, isn't it?

“You didn't have to wait for me, brother,” Sabal assures.

“I didn't,” Ajay says sheepishly. “The guys you came back with told me where you got attacked so I ran out to take care of it.” Sabal laughs quietly. That sounds more like Ajay. He's certain it was just a coincidental attack but any Royal Army hiding anywhere even close to that area are thoroughly dealt with now. Sabal squeezes his hand.

“Even better,” he agrees. Ajay leans into the bed to kiss him worriedly and Sabal winces a little when he leans a little too much to meet him. He's going to be sore a while. That's not going to stop him, of course, but it's definitely annoying. If he let something like this slow him down every time it happened he wouldn't be where he is today.

“You're an idiot, by the way,” Ajay says. Sabal arches a brow at him. “No morphine, really? Are your ‘anti-drug’ ideals so harsh you can't even have painkillers?”

“Of course not,” Sabal assures, cradling his injured arm in his good one to relieve some of the stress on his shoulder. It helps a little. “It is not that I didn't want it, it is simply that someone else could have used it more. We still have limited supplies, after all.”

“‘Want’?” Ajay repeats. “You know what, nevermind. I'm just glad you're okay.” Sabal smiles at him mutely. “Here, uh, I'll help you clean up.”

“I'd appreciate that, brother,” he agrees. Sabal adjusts a little as Ajay gives him a hand out of his bloody and torn shirt so he doesn't overextend himself. He leaves briefly to get some water and while he's gone, Sabal checks some of his other injuries. Part of the reason he refused painkillers was because he knew he'd get antiseptic. With or without his saying, usually without, he gets better treatment simply by being a Golden Path leader. Hopefully soon that will be unnecessary.

Ajay sets some water by the fire to warm it at least a little before returning to Sabal’s bedside. It always surprises Sabal a little how tender Ajay's touches are when he wants them to be. Careful hands and warm touches wipe the blood from his face and neck before working around his bandages. Sabal could do it himself but then he'd be refusing Ajay's help and besides, this is nice.

It still hurts his pride a little, knowing these are injuries Ajay would walk off with a flinch and field bind. Sometimes it seems like Ajay doesn't even feel pain, doesn't really feel anything, but a part of Sabal’s brain offers up the image of Ajay moaning in pleasure for him and another part reminds him how hurt Ajay looked when Sabal said things he wishes he hadn't now. Not that either of those negate the fact that Ajay walks off grevious wounds. He's truly something else, just like Mohan.

“Have I been out long?” Sabal asks as Ajay focuses on getting the blood off his chest and stomach. “Has anything happened?”

“A couple hours,” Ajay says. “And nothing beyond the usual.”

“Good, good,” Sabal murmurs with a nod. Amita already knows about this, he's sure. Just as he has his ways of looking after her, she has hers. She wouldn't have done something so quickly.

Sabal jumps a little when Ajay unbuttons his pants and Ajay looks up at him questioningly. After a moment he realises it's not sexual but rather Ajay trying to get to a part of his wound not bandaged. It's barely a scrape at his hip, there would be no reason to bother with it, but it is still achingly red and in need of at least some cleaning.

“Sorry,” Ajay says.

“It's alright, brother. I'm still a little dazed from the lack of blood is all,” he assures. “You caught me off guard.” Ajay continues on, cleaning away what he can for the time being. Sabal will love to have a bath soon after this, though.

“Better?” he asks, setting the now blood soaked cloth on the side of the washbasin.

“Much,” Sabal replies, watching him get to his feet again. “Thank you, Ajay.”

“Yeah. I'll, uh, sew this up for you,” Ajay says as he picks up Sabal’s just as bloody shirt and coat. The blood has dried on by now, staining his already stained clothes.

“I'm sure the ladies will be more than happy to do that for me,” he says.

“No, I got it,” Ajay assures shortly. It also surprises Sabal how many womanly things Ajay just knows how to do. Cooking and sewing comes to mind most and again his brain offers up something more sexual. This is entirely because it's been on his mind lately. He watches Ajay work quietly before looking back to his own injuries. They need to make sure no other Royal Guards are hiding out in the south and more thoroughly assure none can pass King’s Bridge.

He looks back at Ajay and Ajay lifts his head to look back.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“Dazed, remember?” Sabal assures, offering a small smile. “Just thinking.”

“Yeah,” Ajay answers softly, focusing on his sewing again.

“About you, brother,” Sabal clarifies. Ajay looks a little flustered but tries to keep on the task at hand.

“Me?” he murmurs. “What about me?” Instead, Sabal just offers a mute smile. He thinks many things about Ajay and for many reasons, keeping them to himself is preferred. Ajay pulls a string taut. “There are other methods of pain relief, you know,” he offers quietly. Sabal gives him a skeptical look.

“I appreciate it, brother, but I think I've been injured enough for one day,” he promises. Ajay's face sours a little.

“I meant sex, Sabal,” he says. _Oh_. Sabal isn't sure why his assumption was something else or, for that matter, why he assumed Ajay wasn't having similar thoughts. Maybe it's just the loss of blood but everything about this feels very floaty and intimate. “Ignoring _that_ , oxytocin is a natural pain reliever.”

“Is it?” Sabal replies, eager to move the conversation along. “I didn't know that. Perhaps now is a good time to test that out?” Fortunately, Ajay is quick to forget his transgressions and put his work aside to scoot closer to Sabal. Those tender touches again from hands that do un-tender things or maybe he just never imagined a man's hands could be like this. Sabal has a hard time distinguishing in retrospect which of his awed thoughts were attraction based and which were still vaguely fearful.

Ajay places a hand on his thigh and leans in, so Sabal doesn't have to, to kiss him nicely. He knows he needs to be careful but that doesn't seem like much of a problem. Even now, Ajay seems to hold back though whether it's a little or a lot is unclear. Would he ravish Sabal thoroughly given the chance? Or does he just want to kiss and touch more? What does _he_ want out of this? Ajay had asked him once and, well, what Sabal wants has vastly changed since then.

With his good side, Sabal reaches out to touch Ajay's shoulder as they touch tongues with fleeting embraces. Again, Ajay unbuttons his jeans with one hand but this time with much different intentions and less suddenly. His cock firms in Ajay's hand as he's stroked and squeezed between those talented fingers. Sabal tries to pay attention but it's too easy to get distracted especially when Ajay rubs a pair of fingers against his slit. He groans and Ajay uses his other hand to caress his face as they kiss. Sabal reaches to return the favor but Ajay takes his wrist.

“I got it,” he assures instead. Sabal looks at him with an arched brow. Even dazed, it's pretty obvious what he's up to when Ajay moves himself into position on the bed with him. He runs his tongue over the tip of his cock and Sabal jerks. Ajay seemingly takes care of himself, humming faintly as he takes Sabal’s dick into his mouth. The slight vibration hits him hard and he groans deeply. It’s hard to focus when he’s so light headed and disoriented and for a moment, Sabal wonders if it is actually a good idea to do anything sexual when he nearly died from blood loss a couple hours ago.

A little late now.

Sabal threads his fingers through Ajay’s hair and on the brightside, it’s too hard to think so the usual guilt and shame that tries to claw its way into his thoughts is welcomingly absent. Hopefully he doesn’t have to make a habit of getting so fucked up he almost dies just to enjoy the touch of his boyfriend. Ajay takes him to the root in an easy movement and Sabal closes his eyes as he pants. It’s a lot all at once and this time, Sabal really does want to be able to touch Ajay back. For the time being, though, he just massages his fingers into the nape of Ajay’s neck and tries not to pass out.

“Ajay,” he groans. Again, Ajay lets out a gentle hum that makes Sabal curl his toes. He begins bobbing his head slow at first and then quicker, his tongue pressed against the side of Sabal’s cock firmly with each move and Ajay’s fingers massaging his sack. From the last time he quickly realised it was too good too fast, Sabal knows Ajay is very talented at this and this time is no different. He can feel Ajay’s throat squeeze around his cock when he swallows.

“ _Shit_ ,” Sabal rasps shortly, briefly tightening his grip on Ajay’s neck before tossing his head back. He grunts as his orgasm washes over him and instead of pulling away, Ajay swallows. Sabal can feel his neck and face heat up with embarrassment, not exactly ideal in his condition, and Ajay pulls off with an obscenely slick noise. He runs his tongue over his teeth before grinning slightly.

“How was that?” he asks. Sabal doesn’t know how to bring up the fact that Ajay doesn't need to swallow and _shouldn't_. He decides not to mention it.

“Good,” is all he says instead, still trying to catch his breath and make his world stop spinning. “And you, brother? Let me help.” Ajay gives a brief nod of agreement, sitting up again with labored breathing and slick lips. He pushes the waistband of his jeans down and pulls his shirt up, his erect cock jumping to attention immediately. Sabal reaches to stroke him in his good hand, once more doing his best to learn from what Ajay has done with some improvement he likes to think even if Ajay responds the way he always has.

Careful not to rock the bed or Sabal, Ajay ruts into his hand impatiently, a low groan settled in his mouth. Sabal watches as Ajay's cock drools precum excitedly. While smaller than his own, Sabal can't imagine trying to use his mouth. The idea isn't necessarily _unappealing_ just bizarrely foreign. Here and now isn't quite the place to try that out, fortunately or otherwise.

“Ajay,” Sabal murmurs, looking back up at his distracted features. Ajay is focusing very intently on rolling his hips into Sabal’s hand. He hums back a mild noise of acknowledgement. It's hard putting what he wants into words not necessarily because he doesn't know how but because Sabal feels like uttering such things is more of a sin than actually doing them- something he knows makes no sense. “What do you want?”

“You're hurt,” Ajay huffs back. “This is okay, really.” And okay is fine but that's not what Sabal wants. He knows even if given the go ahead to do what he wants, Ajay will hold back. If Sabal has learned anything about Ajay, it's that he likes keeping what he wants a well guarded secret until it makes him so frustrated he lashes out. If Sabal wants anything, he'll have to say it himself.

“Just because I'm injured doesn't mean I'm incapable of making you feel good, too,” Sabal assures, giving Ajay's cock a slightly squeeze and making him hiss softly.

“And you are,” Ajay insists. “You don't have to push yourself for me.” Sabal doesn't want to admit he's really just being selfish again. He lets go of Ajay's dick and Ajay makes a disgruntled noise as he looks down at him. Sabal pushes him aside and Ajay moves so he can get readjusted on his good side. It seems like Ajay was right, anyways, some of his pain has diminished for the time being. “Sabal-”

“Come, brother,” Sabal encourages, gesturing faintly for Ajay to lay behind him. “If you want.” Ajay doesn't hesitate, not exactly, but he looks on with something akin to anticipation. He nods again.

“Yeah,” comes the soft murmur and Ajay carefully lays behind him. He kisses the back of Sabal’s neck and gets a pleased little sigh for it as he pushes his hands under the waist of Sabal’s jeans. With a slight thrust, Sabal can feel his hard dick rub against his back. He shudders as Ajay grinds against the small of his back, groaning into his skin. Would he ravish him if Sabal asked him to? He never could but it's a thought that lingers as Ajay slowly pushes his pants and boxers down his thighs.

Sabal only stiffens a little when Ajay presses his hard cock between his thighs. It's hot and feels much different this way. Ajay slots against his back, careful not to put his hand on Sabal’s injuries and simply settling for taking a hold of his hip. He moves his hips very deliberately, pressing his dick against Sabal’s sack and stirring cock. He's so close. Sabal can hear his quiet pants right in his ear and Ajay leans in to kiss his neck more thoroughly.

Had the circumstances been not immediately after his injury, Sabal would have certainly been looking for another orgasm but right now, he's just too tired. Ajay thrusts against him more fully, his cock sliding between his thighs and smearing wet precum between them. Sabal groans faintly, tightening his legs as Ajay had done. Ajay moans into him.

“Sabal,” he rasps out and Sabal wants to reach back to touch him but his arm doesn't move that way right now. Instead he settles for rolling his hips, not fully sure what he's doing, but getting another successful moan anyways. Ajay grips his leg a little tighter, digging his fingers in and pressing his mouth along the curve of his shoulder blades. This is really the first time they've been in a position like this, too, easily allowing Ajay to take what he wants.

Whether he gets more confident or more impatient, Ajay grows more aggressive. He holds both of Sabal’s thighs in his hands now as he eagerly fucks them. It's an even odder feeling giving someone such control over him but again, perhaps such a feeling is only present thanks to his lack of blood and state of disarray. Ajay mouths his neck but unlike the bite mark Sabal had left, he doesn't bite. He licks and sucks and gently nips at his skin until Sabal is quietly panting from that alone.

Sabal touches Ajay's dick with his fingers each time it thrusts between his thighs and Ajay's groans turn rougher. He holds back a lot, doesn't he? Is it just for Sabal? Is he afraid of something? Ajay is so quick to think of himself as a monster, maybe Sabal’s previous actions have had unintended consequences. Even if Ajay is ignorant about Sabal faking it in the beginning, even if he believed honestly that Sabal was just nervous, he's watched him flinch so much.

“Sabal,” Ajay groans deeply and the mouth on the back of his neck suddenly turns to teeth. Sabal grunts in surprise, arching his back weakly as Ajay bites into him- hard. Ajay squeezes Sabal’s thighs as he comes between them, leaving a sticky mess in his wake. He lets go quickly, goes back to mouthing that now sore spot between pants to catch his breath. Sabal can feel his own breathing a little labored, too.

They lay quietly for a few minutes before Ajay starts moving around again. He cleans them off, checks Sabal’s bandages to see if they need to be replaced, then returns to laying beside him. Sabal touches the bite mark left on him, not in a completely unsimilar spot than the one he left on Ajay. It feels- he's not sure. ‘Nice’ doesn't feel appropriate.

“Are you okay?” Ajay asks.

“Of course,” Sabal promises. “It does hurt less now.”

“Good, good. You should get some more sleep,” Ajay says. “You kept me on house arrest and my wounds weren't nearly as bad. I should return the favor.” Sabal laughs a little.

“I suppose you should,” he agrees. “Thank you, Ajay.”

“Sure thing,” Ajay says and he smiles. “I love you.”

“I- love you, too, brother.”

Why does he feel worse?


	15. Take Cover

Sabal has it on some very good faith that Amita’s plan is to destroy Jalendu. It's not that this surprises him, he already had a pretty good idea that's what she wanted, but the confirmation just makes him blind with rage. After everything, after all of this, she still thinks she knows better than the _gods_? She's nothing but a godless heathen! Once Ajay puts an end to this-

There's no ending this with Amita around.

Sabal has known this for a long time. _Everyone_ has known it: an elephant can't have two heads. Before, of course, Sabal didn't want to think about it. Perhaps he had truly hoped eventually Amita would see the light or, at the very least, see that she'd never get her way. Now it's painfully clear there's no helping her. They'll deal with the temple first then Amita.

In theory.

Where has Ajay gone? He is the good faith, after all, that assured him Amita is ready to move on the temple _now_. If they don't move soon, she'll beat them to it. Unless, of course, Ajay is helping her. Sabal startles himself with the idea. There's _no way_ Ajay is helping Amita. There's no way she convinced him to destroy something so precious to Kyrat. Ajay's _not_ that kind of person.

Right?

Urgently, Sabal reaches for his radio. The two men with him look on curiously, obviously not following his train of thought. No, they trust Ajay so _blindly_. Sabal knows better. He loves Ajay, he truly does, but sometimes all it takes is a little plucking for someone to make him move. Amita knows how to _pluck_ him just right.

“Ajay,” Sabal says sharply. “Where are you, brother? We're running out of time.” There's a very long pause. Long enough, in fact, that Sabal is already quickly trying to think of a way to stop Ajay. He never thought he'd be on the wrong side of _Ajay_. Ajay is- unstoppable. Sabal remembers now, a meal they had together once, and he knows now what it was about Ajay that scares him; easy. Ajay finds things easy. _Nothing_ is easy.

He couldn't hurt Ajay, could he? _Can_ he? A dull ache in Sabal’s healing side reminds him Ajay walks off injuries that would kill a lesser man. Hurting him wouldn't stop him, regardless of whether Sabal could even do it, it might not even slow him down. The idea of having to kill him makes Sabal’s heart race so much it hurts. He _couldn't_. For Jalendu? For the Tarun Matara? For Kyrat? Could he?

“We're not,” Ajay answers plainly. Sabal is relieved and somehow, not. “Neither of you can move on Jalendu without me otherwise you would have already.” His voice isn't cold, not really, just stating facts like he's reading it out of a file. He's not fully right. Jalendu is swarming with Royal Army and to get close they'd be risking a lot of men- men that Amita would happily line up for their execution. She'd _walk_ to Jalendu on a bridge of their bodies if she had to.

“Ajay, now isn't the time for this. Amita won't wait forever and- neither will I,” Sabal urges.

“Then don't,” Ajay answers. Sabal can't get his frequency back. Angrily, he slams it against the table, cracking the hard plastic case in the process. He exhales hard, trying to catch his breath. A one on one fight for Jalendu with Amita? No, she doesn't play near fair enough for that. He'd lose without question. If she moves first, or at all, the only way Sabal can assure Bhadra is rightfully made Tarun Matara is with Ajay's help.

“I'm going to find Ajay,” Sabal says shortly. “Watch Amita. If she goes anywhere, does _anything_ , I know about it, understand?” Both of his soldiers nod hastily and then Sabal is out the door. Ajay couldn't have gotten far, if not only because Sabal knows he can't take five steps without being obligated to do _something_.

He looks for anything to lead him to Ajay; dead animals, stray crossbow bolts, blood. Eventually a wandering sherpa points him in the right direction. Sabal urgently makes his way up to the abandoned home, sure enough not too far off from where he'd started, and sure enough with a dead honey badger filled with crossbow bolts on the front step. He doesn't know the etiquette of entering an abandoned house with someone in it is and he doesn't think about it nearly that long, simply letting himself in.

Ajay is here, fortunately, laid on a dusty bed and facing the wall. He sighs loudly when he hears the door open but doesn't look, doesn't have to.

“You can't leave me alone for two minutes to think?” he murmurs mildly. He's not upset, or doesn't sound it at least, but rather just- tired.

“I'm sorry, brother,” Sabal answers softly. “You had me worried. I just-”

“You just wanted to make sure I'm on your side, I know,” Ajay scoffs back. “We go through this every time. You say you just want to ‘spend’ time with me or whatever but it's more than that, isn't it?”

“When you say it that way, it sounds like I don't trust you,” Sabal says. “I didn't mean to come off that way. I know this isn't easy, Ajay, and I know you want time to come to terms with it, but if we don't move soon-”

“I never said I was helping you,” Ajay interrupts. Sabal tries to keep calm.

“Ajay, you can not _destroy_ that temple!” he shouts. Ajay doesn't say anything. “ _Ajay_!”

“Instead you want me to destroy a little girl’s life,” he says coldly. “I know, Sabal. I either help you and Bhadra hates me for life, hell, I'll hate myself for life, or I help Amita and destroy something culturally significant in a way I'll _never_ understand. I don't need to hear anything from you, okay?”

“Bhadra will understand, Ajay,” Sabal urges. “I know this is hard for her too but being the Tarun Matara is a great _honor_ that she will understand one day. You're not destroying her life, you're helping bring the gods’ favor to her and all of Kyrat. Embracing our culture will make us strong, Ajay.”

“It'll make _you_ strong,” Ajay replies as he sits up. “That's what this is about. If I help you crown Bhadra, you get to be the regent, don't you?” Sabal hesitates. “And if I help Amita, people will follow her in masses. So now I have to choose. You or Amita. Progress or tradition. Warlord or cultist. ‘Another Pagan Min’ or another Mohan Ghale.” Is this what Ajay really thinks about him?

“If you help Amita, you'll be destroying a part of Kyrat’s very soul, brother,” Sabal demands, watching Ajay’s back as he begins to sort through his bag. “And then Kyrat herself the way Amita is going.”

“I'm not helping you crown Bhadra Tarun Matara,” Ajay says. “I don't want to destroy the temple but I'm not doing that, either.”

“It is her duty!” Sabal barks. “Only the Tarun Matara can assure Kyrat is as it should be!”

“I don't care, Sabal,” Ajay replies. “I'm not subjecting Bhadra to your- your _objectification_ because you still think Kyrat needs to be ‘pure’. Those ‘traditions’, those ‘rituals’, I can't do that to her.”

“Ajay, we can talk about that later,” Sabal says from a firmed jaw. “Things can change for the better, you _showed_ me that, but getting rid of the Tarun Matara is not the change Kyrat needs. When everything is said and done, we can talk about everything, Ajay. Whatever ‘issues’ you have, we can address when we're not dealing with a war.”

“No, I'm tired of empty promises to ‘talk’,” Ajay answers blandly. “I'm sorry, Sabal, but I _can't_.”

“You _won't_!” Sabal snaps. “Instead you want to help Amita turn our country into a godless, drug peddling hell! You think Amita will ‘talk’ to you once you give her what she wants? She knows she can bend you to her wishes and that's all she'll ever do! How long until she's sending you to burn down every shrine and temple you can find?”

“You really do think you're the only one that changed, don't you?” Ajay says and he shakes his head. “If you want the truth, Sabal, I've never really cared what you or Amita tried to convince me of. I haven't done a single thing in this country without my mother in mind. You never convinced me of anything. _Amita_ never made me ‘bend’. I saved those people because my mother would have wanted me too. I burned the opium because my mother wouldn't have agreed with poisoning people. I didn't burn the brick factory because _my mother_ wouldn't leave Kyrat helpless.”

“Your _mother_ was the Tarun Matara,” Sabal sneers. “Do you think this is what she would want?”

“I don't think my mother ever regretted being Tarun Matara. I don't think she ever regretted being married to Mohan, either. Given the chance though, she'd never put another girl in the position she was in,” Ajay assures, pulling his bag onto his back. “If the only way to help you is to crown Bhadra, then I'm not helping you.”

“Ajay, if you clear the way for Amita she _will_ destroy Jalendu and Bhadra will never be Tarun Matara,” Sabal stresses. “If we move on the temple, we have to do it _now_ and we have to crown Bhadra. Please, just trust me. Everything else we can handle after the war.” Ajay doesn't say anything. He can't believe this. Kyra has lead him down this path only for it to end here? He doesn't think so.

“Ajay, you are my boyfriend and you will listen to me!” Sabal shouts. There's a brief pause where Ajay doesn't move then he looks over his shoulder, brows furrowed and mouth twisted.

“What?” he says. Sabal deflates immediately. It’s a snowflake.

“I- didn't mean it like that, brother,” he assures, quickly trying to back peddle his anger.

“What did you say?” Ajay urges on. One tiny snowflake drifting down onto the precarious ledge Sabal has based this entire lie upon.

“I simply feel like you're making a rash decision,” Sabal says.

“I'm your _boyfriend_ and I will listen to you?” Ajay repeats sourly. “You- you really thought I'd agree with you just because we're boyfriends, Sabal? Is that what this is about?”

“No, Ajay-” Sabal says hastily. It is an avalanche.

“You only became interested in me after you saw me with Sarang and figured out I was gay, didn't you? Why we only have sex when you _want_ something? Why you only ever seem to have any emotional connection when you want something? Forgiveness or- action. You’re not gay, are you Sabal?” Ajay says and maybe he’s angry but his voice, so clear, is distant.

“Ajay,” Sabal tries to urge but he can not hope to dig himself out.

“You weren’t nervous, you were- you were disgusted by- by what? Me? What I _wanted_ from you? You forced yourself to be- _touched_ by me so you could manipulate me? _Use_ me?” Ajay goes on and that distance becomes much closer, much harsher. Sabal wants to defend himself, to do anything, but the redness in Ajay’s eyes like he’s doing everything in his ability not to come to tears is paralyzing.

“Everything was a lie, wasn’t it? You haven’t _changed_ , you’re just using me to make ends meet,” Ajay snaps. “And then what? I help you crown Bhadra and then what, Sabal? I help you kill Pagan Min and _then what_? You leave me in the _fucking_ dirt while you run off to _fuck_ a fourteen year old girl like your precious Mohan?”

“Ajay, I am not-” Sabal says sternly, trying desperately to find a handhold.

“ _Don’t speak to me_ ,” Ajay barks at him. “I don’t want to hear it!” Silence or close to it, Ajay is breathing too hard, his chest shuddering and his shoulders stiff as he tries to hold in everything. “And I fell for it. You were right. _Amita_ was right. I’m just a fucking puppet. I just- I did everything you wanted, didn’t I, Sabal? I- I really loved you, you know that. I really thought- I knew you were _fucked_ up but I thought you could change. I thought you would let me _help_ you change.”

Sabal opens his mouth to say something but what can he say? Lie some more? Tell what little truth Ajay will listen to? Apologize until he can’t speak anymore? Ajay looks away, shaking his head.

“I knew,” he says quieter. “I suspected. I’m not stupid, Sabal, I’m just- selfish. I came to this country with nothing and I just wanted _something_. I did mental _fucking_ _backflips_ to convince myself you could ever love me.”

“I do,” Sabal urges quietly. Ajay hits him. It’s sudden and hard and startling but- not unjust. “I love you, Ajay Ghale.” Ajay hits him again. “Please listen to me.”

“You manipulated me for months and now you want me to listen? Fuck you, Sabal,” Ajay says, his name pronounced as it’s rightfully intended for once; a dagger in Ajay’s mouth aimed right for his throat. He moves to leave and Sabal grabs him out of desperation. Ajay hits him again and again when Sabal won’t let go.

“Please,” he begs. Ajay yanks out of his grip with a forceful shove, now actual tears in his eyes even as Sabal tries not to look.

“You don’t get to beg for my forgiveness,” he says coldly. “Not again. For for _this_.” He storms out of the house and Sabal urgently follows.

“Ajay!” he shouts after him but Ajay doesn’t reply. He climbs on an ATV and takes off- right in the direction of Jalendu. “Ajay!” Sabal runs for it, urgently looking for a passing patrol to catch a ride with as he scrambles for his radio.

“I need a sniper at the following coordinates now!” he demands. To do what? He thinks to himself. What _can_ he do? Sabal doesn’t find anyone and he has to run back to the town where his requested sniper waits. He yells instructions but he doesn’t quite know what they are, only that they have to do _something_. Amita is, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be found. She is the last of his concern right now.

Sabal’s face stings but Ajay could have done so much worse. He feels numb all over as they race for the lake shore. They'd never make it across the water in time and even if they did, what could they do? A couple men up against Ajay? Sabal would be throwing them to their deaths.

“Find him,” Sabal hisses urgently as his sniper quickly sets up. Everything still looks quiet but he knows better; that's how Ajay works. He searches the island rapidly with his binoculars, looking for any sign of anything. A Royal guard drops dead. “He's sniping, _find him_.” Sabal grips his radio tight as the last half hour catches up to him tenfold.

“Ajay,” he says. “Please don't do this. You can't destroy Jalendu because you're mad at me. That's not fair to Kyrat. No one else had any say in my decisions and you know it.” No response. More Royal Guards fall. Sabal tries to pinpoint him but it's stupidly hard.

“Visual,” his sniper alerts and Sabal quickly follows line of sight to a smaller sub island. Sure enough, he can _barely_ see Ajay. He's laying partially in a bush, looking through the scope of a rifle much more powerful than the Golden Path has access too. His face is hard and any signs of his violent sadness has been replaced with stone. “What do I do, Sabal?”

“Can you injure him, brother?” Sabal asks.

“From this angle, no,” his sniper replies.

“Hold off,” Sabal instructs. He realises he's shaking when he raises his radio again. “Please, Ajay, leave the temple. I know I don't deserve to ask your forgiveness, let alone get it, but I owe you an explanation. We can still talk about this. Anything you want, brother, I'm listening.” But Ajay isn't speaking. Or maybe he is. Maybe this is what Ajay means by him never listening.

“Sabal,” his sniper stresses.

“I said hold off,” Sabal barks back. Ajay's moving and Sabal feels his heart race. “Ajay! This is not change, this is violence! You're not just hurting me, you're hurting all of Kyrat if you do this! I know you better than this, Ajay! I love you!”

A shot.

It's deafening it's so close and for a second, Sabal has to figure out it wasn't aimed at him. He looks down at his sniper in disbelief, the man quickly trying to kick the shell for a new bullet. Urgently, Sabal searches for Ajay in the distance.

“I told you to hold off!” Sabal demands.

“I'm sorry, Sabal, he wasn't listening to reason,” his sniper urges. “He was going to destroy Jalendu.” Going to?

“You hit him?” Sabal asks, his heart _aching_. He gets his answer quickly. Ajay's shot isn't loud. It's sudden, one moment the Golden Path soldier is quickly trying to focus his scope and the next he's screaming in pain with a bullet in his shoulder. No, he most certainly didn't hit Ajay.

Or maybe he did.

“Next one goes in your throat, Sabal,” Ajay warns. “Leave me alone.” Sabal sees the boat that heads straight for Jalendu’s shore and he knows Ajay is on it. There is nothing he can do. He drops to the ground, carefully rolling over the sniper that had unfortunately come to his call.

“I need first aid at my coordinates,” Sabal instructs hastily. “You'll be alright, brother. I'm sorry.” He bundles up as much cloth as he can and puts pressure down on his bullet wound to hold him off for the time being. The temple is quiet and Sabal thinks he hates that more. No fighting, no yelling; just efficiency.

“No need to be sorry,” the man assures between gritted teeth. “You did tell me to hold off. I- lost my nerve. Not much of a soldier, I guess.”

“What's your name?” Sabal asks.

“Mukti,” he answers. The pain makes him shake but he tries not to. Sabal grabs one of his hands firmly to ground him.

“Mukti,” he repeats. “That bullet was fully intended for me and I am sorry. This was my problem to deal with and I should have, alone, but I lost my nerve.” Mukti laughs but it's strained. “You did good today, brother. The Golden Path is lucky to have you.” All they can do is sit and wait. Sabal feels he's spent too much of his life waiting around already through no one's fault but his own.

Ajay doesn't wait. Sabal has the perfect view from where he sits to watch as Jalendu collapses. It's not slow or beautiful or strangely enchanting; it tumbles with the weight of a sun. It tumbles with the weight of the gods, of every Tarun Matara crowned within it, of their traditions they hold so dear, of every one of Sabal’s regrets and fears. It's his fault, he knows that, but he wonders if it could have ever been _not_ his fault. If he had been more honest, with himself and Ajay both, if he had lied a little better or been a little more gentle, a little more ruthless: Kyra makes men the way they are and Sabal has no idea who he ever was.

“Kyra save us,” Mukti whispers, watching on in mute horror.

“We must learn to save ourselves first, brother,” Sabal murmurs. Their aid arrives swiftly and there's a brief moment where they climb out and all they can do is look on in shock where Jalendu once was. To their benefit, they shake it off quick. Urgently, they take Mukti and begin carrying him into one of the trucks.

“Sabal!” his havildar calls, trying not to get distracted by staring at the ruined temple. They know, too, know it's Sabal’s fault. He was solely responsible to prevent something like this from happening and he failed. He doesn't deserve to lead anything. “We have word Pagan is trying to retake Utkarsh. He has mortars.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Sabal hisses through his teeth. “Get Mukti patched up. The rest of you, let's go!” Everyone quickly climbs back into a vehicle and Sabal hops into a bed and hangs on tight while he grips his broken radio. “Where's Amita?”

“Don't know!” the havildar answers. “We don't know where Bhadra is, either! We think Amita sent her to Shanath! A very _large_ arena woman was seen with her last!” _Shit_. Sabal knows full well if anything happens to Bhadra, Ajay will kill Amita but that doesn't negate something happening to Bhadra. Amita _wouldn't_.

“Where's our inside man?” Sabal demands. His havildar sighs.

“With Amita,” he says. Sabal should get used to this. With the temple gone, with Ajay firmly cemented on Amita’s side, Sabal holds no power. He's a failure and people aren't going to follow him anywhere.

“Utkarsh is our concern right now!” Sabal assures. “If any of you aren't willing to follow me there, you better decide now!” He's actually surprised no one makes an attempt to leave. There's not many of them but what can they do?

“Sounds like Amita is sending Ajay to the mortars!” the havildar alerts. “There's still people in Utkarsh!”

“Then we know our job!” Sabal replies. They all nod in agreement. There's no way Ajay's going to make it in time to stop them from shelling the town but hopefully, he can stop them from all out destroying it. It's Ajay, of course he can.

“Royal Army coming up!” someone alerts. “And lots of them!”

“No stopping!” Sabal instructs. “Utkarsh is our priority!” He takes a gun offered to him and they brace themselves as they ram their way through whatever guards don't get out of the way fast enough. Sabal only fires at what he can hit and the rest of his fairly small team do what they can as they pass by. Utkarsh isn't far from here, they'll be seeing those guards again.

“Sabal! You must evacuate that town!” Amita yells at him over the radio.

“I'm not evacuating on your say so!” he barks back.

“Artillery!” the havildar shouts. “Heads down!” The whole earth shakes as Utkarsh is hit violently. It misses but not near enough to be harmless. They have to stop a way out from the town’s walls just to stay out of its target zone and they huddle on the other side of the truck as they wait for it to clear. Sabal can smell the burning; wood, stone, flesh and cloth. The fire is always the worst part, he thought, a slower and more painful death than sharpnel. Once the first wave has ceased, Sabal quickly motions everyone forward.

“Get who you can out! Watch your backs!” he commands and everyone quickly pairs off to swarm the town. There's already so many dead. Sabal tries to focus on who's still alive for the time being. Fortunately, most people flee on their own and the rest are quick to follow once they're freed from any obstacles that were preventing them previously.

“You hear that Sabal? Get the soldiers out!” Amita yells at him again. She never _fucking_ gets it.

“I'm not abandoning-” Sabal begins to snap back.

“Royal Army coming in from the north!” someone alerts.

“Hold the town!” Sabal barks, moving to the front line to push them back. His shoulder reminds him loudly how recently ago he was bedridden and just the same, he ignores it. “Keep them out!”

“Sabal! There's people trapped in here!” his havildar informs. “We can't get them out like this!” That's not the worst news he's gotten all day, fortunately. Sabal is only thankful the team that has rallied with him is vicious and angry, moving forward as quick as they can push back to pick up Royal Army gear and fight back even harder.

“Are they safe?” Sabal shouts back.

“The building is reinforced! As long as they don't take a direct hit, they should be fine!” his havildar assures. That's not a chance Sabal likes but they don't have much of a choice. They can hold off the soldiers but it'll be up to Ajay to deal with the cannons.

“Make sure they're in cover! We'll hold off the army as long as we can!” Sabal instructs.

“Incoming! Take cover!”

Sabal quickly urges his team and any straggling civilians into cover wherever there is any. He ducks under a house and instructs them all to shield their faces and ears as best they can. The whole house feels like it's going to come down on top of them and the heat is unbearable. Everything happens so fast, though, and Sabal is running purely on adrenaline. They all are. As soon as it's over, they quickly return to prepare for more Royal Army.

“Soldiers of the Golden Path, I am ordering you to evacuate!” Amita demands.

“Hold your positions!” Sabal counters at once.

“Dammit, Sabal!” she shouts at him.

“Coming in from the south!” someone alerts and they rush to hold the town edge.

“Get some mines down on the north!” Sabal directs. “I want that enforcer dead!” He knows he's been hit, at least once if not more, but he doesn't have time to deal with it right now. It's not vital so it's not important. They hold off the army through what is sheer luck and spite. Honestly, spite is what the Golden Path has thrived on for decades.

“More artillery!” the havildar yells. “Get to cover!” Several of his team quickly throw down whatever mines they have left as they bolt for some kind of safety. Sabal drops his gun, quickly picking up something he has more ammo for as he slides under a building.

“Sabal,” Ajay growls through his radio. It makes Sabal think way too much all of a sudden and his whole body aches. “Get out of Utkarsh.” To this, Sabal doesn't reply. There's nothing for him to say, nothing Ajay will listen to. The shells that hit seem lesser than before. Ajay is obviously getting the job done, at least. Sabal takes more than a little shrapnel to the back even under cover.

“Havildar is down!” someone shouts. “I think he's still breathing!”

“Get him under cover!” Sabal instructs. “More soldiers incoming!”

“Sabal! We can't get to the last cannon before they fire at Utkarsh again!” Ajay barks at him. “ _Get out_!” They've made it through this many so far. Sabal isn't leaving these people here to die. Again, he doesn't reply, simply rushing forward to meet the advancing unit once more.

They might be tired and hurt but they don't slow even for a second. They push on harder, faster. Give a centimeter and the Royal Army will take a meter. Or a couple, Sabal thinks.

“Fall back!” Sabal demands. His team hesitates but only for a second. They hadn't come ready for a fight this size and most of them are running low on ammo, anyways. They grab what they can as they back up back towards town. He doesn't have to say anything for them to get the idea. He wouldn't fall back.

Fortunately there is time between hearing the cannons fire and the impact. Sabal follows another soldier into cover quickly, shielding the entrance with his back as another shell rains down. It seems almost insignificant compared to the first attack. Then it's quiet and they wait and listen. Sabal can hear his fellow soldier breathing hard, her injuries finally catching up to her as the lull in action becomes more apparent. She looks at him and he looks back.

“Is it over?” she asks. Sabal listens.

“Let's not assume,” he assures. Cautiously, they wander out of cover and everyone has a look around to make sure nothing else is coming. A lot of the town is on fire if it hasn't already collapsed in on itself but surprisingly, it fared pretty well. The streets are littered with bodies but a lot of them are red. Still on high alert, they try to put out some of the fires and help the rest of the civilians get free. Sabal tends to his havildar who, fortunately awakens but obviously has a pretty severe concussion.

“Ajay is on his way,” one of his team alerts. Sabal doesn't want to be here for that. He looks at his radio, cracked and charred and damaged, and he tosses it aside. He can't see any reason to have it anymore. The soldiers that have come with him look on quietly for a moment before haphazardly tossing theirs aside as well. Sabal isn't sure what to do about this.

“Sabal,” the havildar says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We should go. We could all do with some wound licking.” That Sabal can agree with.

He can see Ajay stood still in the distance as they drive off.


	16. Reap What You Sow

“Perhaps we could use a different temple?” she offers. A different temple. “There must be a contingency ritual if Jalendu is ever- unsuitable.”

“No, sister,” Sabal says. “No other temple.”

“We could rebuild it?” someone else offers. Rebuild. “It would take a long time but we've rebuilt things before.”

“No, brother,” Sabal says. “No rebuilding.”

“It doesn't matter,” the havildar assures, finishing up tying one of Sabal’s wounds. “Ajay has sided with Amita. If we do anything, we'll find ourselves up against him. He's- a weapon and a powerful one and Amita won't stand for us trying to preserve our culture. Which of you is going to fight him?” Everyone looks away sheepishly. “That's what I thought.”

“Don't speak of Ajay in such a manner, brother,” Sabal says. He pulls his shirt back on, hiding away his wounds underneath. It's a tactic the Royal Army uses, isn't it? They wear red so it never looks like they bleed. Sabal’s shirt is soaked in too much blood to tell where he's been injured.

“Sorry, Sabal,” his havildar murmurs, putting a comforting hand on his good shoulder. “I meant no disrespect. I'm sorry he betrayed you like this. I- know you loved him.” Sabal doesn't even know himself, how could anyone else? These people don't know the truth of what he's done and they probably never will, how he sacrificed Ajay's feelings to try to further their ‘ideal’ Kyrat. Ajay's never going to tell anyone. He'd rather be regarded as someone who betrayed Sabal than ever admit that Sabal manipulated him in such a way.

What did he think he was going to do once he crowned Bhadra, anyways? Fail to live up to _anyone's_ expectations. Half of Kyrat follows Amita and even if he were the regent, they'd see anything he'd do as something against them. Her most loyal followers would frame him in any negative way they could. And Sabal’s followers? Half of them expected him to ‘purify’ Kyrat in blood and fire, never realising Sabal had abandoned those ideas long ago. The other half would see those harmless ‘changes’ Ajay spoke about as blasphemy and treason. There was no winning this for him. He never had a chance.

He would have found himself pushing against all of Kyrat in different ways. He only would have ended up having to force new ideas, new rules, new laws, new _traditions_ on people who'd never accept them one way or another. He's never had the makings of a leader.

Sabal runs his hand down his mouth, staring at a wall with no real purpose. Ajay will come looking for him soon. Regardless of how this has gone, Amita will see him as a threat on her new reign; him and the handful of people too stupid to realise Sabal never could have helped them. Ajay will look for him, and find him, and kill him. Sabal can't even blame him.

It doesn't even matter. He has nothing left.

“Sabal,” the havildar says, trying to get his attention again. It's hard. Sabal’s brain is scrambling to find something to latch onto, something to ground him, but it's slipping away from him so fast he feels as though he could simply lie down and join Kyra on his own. “What should we do?”

“Mukti,” Sabal says. “Check on him, please. He will- want to know how Utkarsh faired.”

“I'll go,” someone murmurs.

“All of you,” Sabal says. They look at him but Sabal can't tear his eyes away from a knot in the wood wall.

“I don't think that needs all of us, brother,” the havildar assures.

“I need to think,” Sabal says. “Please, go.” If they're still here when Ajay arrives, he'll kill them. Perhaps not of a want to but because they will, without a doubt, realise why Ajay has come here and throw their lives away trying to ‘defend’ a worthless person like him. He doesn't want that.

“Very well,” the havildar murmurs and they all pick up to leave. He pauses in the door, though. Sabal almost laughs. This man, this ‘follower’, _his_ havildar, and Sabal doesn't even know his name. People die so frequently, so without warning in this war, Sabal stopped bothering after a while. He'd just wait and another body filled the same position eventually. An obscure name here or there, someone he only spoke to once or twice, and suddenly everyone thinks he's a people person.

“Sabal,” the havildar says and finally, Sabal looks at him. “May Kyra watch over you.” Sabal smiles somberly.

“I think she's had enough of me for one lifetime,” he replies quietly.

And Sabal is alone. Just like always. Perhaps he'd become so accustomed to being alone that he never really bothered to try anything else. No mother, he would have been better off without a father, and the only man he ever looked up to died before he was even fourteen. Then what? He spent his life fighting for the top? He fought to stay ahead, fought to make himself better, fought to _stay alive_ , only to get to the top and find out he had to fight Amita the whole time. No friends, no family, no lovers. Just people who respected him enough to follow him and easy enough to fall for his ‘sauve charm’.

And Ajay. Sabal thinks he was almost happy there for a second with Ajay but there was always this _space_. It's a space Sabal put there, that he always had to maintain because if he didn't, Ajay would get too close and find out the truth and everything would come crashing down around him. Maybe it's better Ajay found out this way. If he had found out sooner, Sabal isn't sure he would have stayed a sane man.

Just like Mohan.

Sabal stands, turns to the little desk full of small lanterns lit in Kyra’s honor. She is disappointed today but not in Jalendu he thinks. Somewhere along the lines, he missed a sign, misread a sign, imagined up signs that were never there. He's questioning every step he's made to get here.

For a moment, he wonders how different things would be had Mohan still been alive. How long would Sabal have worked to stand by his side? How long until he realised his ‘respect’ was something more than that? How long until he spilled out words he knew not to say? How long until he was cleansed under thinly veiled lies.

Sabal hears the steps first, the evenly paced sound of worn sneakers on dirt and the quiet crack as Ajay steps into the wooden house. What is he supposed to do? Apologise? Explain himself? Just make Ajay think he's trying to lie himself out of another problem? Give Ajay something to feel guilty about later? No, of course not. Sabal will make this easy. He slides his fingers over his khukri as he glances back to look at Ajay and an expressionless, dead look mirrors back at him. He puts his candle down.

“Did she send you, brother?” Sabal asks mildly. “Did you _volunteer_? What do you think you're doing?”

“Sabal,” Ajay says firmly.

“Congratulations. Everything that meant something is irrelevant thanks to you,” Sabal says, sitting back down on the crate at his feet. Ajay can't keep his stone face as well as Sabal can. “And that's what's truly sad, brother. You handed everything over to _Amita_.”

“This isn't about Amita,” Ajay says but his teeth sound pressed and his voice teetering on the edge of something else.

“To Amita! You think she can fix Kyrat? How? Drug fields as far as the eye can see?” Sabal continues on. “Suicide nets in factory towns where men, women, and children are free to be poor? It's a land of equal opportunity where everyone’s a slave.”

“Shut up!” Ajay finally barks at him, drawing his pistol in a flash and pointing it blank at him. A moment passes. Sabal tries not to think too much which will be his last.

“Do you think this is the country your mother wanted her ashes scattered in?” he says. Ajay grips his gun harder. More moments pass. “What's it going to be, brother?”

“This isn't about my mother,” Ajay bites. Sabal turns away. He considers praying but he doesn't know what for, anymore. Comfort, maybe, just an assurance that it won't be that bad. Has he ever been afraid to die? Has he ever even thought about it? Not really. “I want my explanation, Sabal.”

“Explanation?” Sabal repeats. “Jalendu is already gone, Ajay. _Bhadra_ is gone. There's nothing to explain.”

“You lied to me for months! There's something to fucking explain!” Ajay shouts at him. He's only delaying this just like he delayed Noore. Sabal looks at his khukri again before offering a hand for Ajay to ask as he wants. “Why?” he demands.

“To have a stronger pull than Amita, you know that,” Sabal answers plainly. “I always underestimated her.” That is what started this, anyways. Kyra or not, the goal was the same; ‘guide’ Ajay to his side.

“What was your plan? After the temple? Just- just dump me and pretend it never happened? Get rid of me?” Ajay insists. Sabal’s blood all over his hands and a big mess.

“Of course not,” Sabal replies. “You're too important to Kyrat, brother, _to me_. First was convincing you to stay and then, who knows? To keep you by my side? Marriage, perhaps? Or a union, at least, I don't think our traditions allow for two men to be joined in such a way.”

“You would have taken this that far?” Ajay asks irritably.

“I would have done anything for Kyrat,” Sabal assures. He sees Ajay's jaw clench even tighter.

“You said you loved me, Sabal,” he bites.

“I know what I said,” Sabal answers.

“Was it the truth?” Ajay demands. It doesn't really matter how he answers this. He lies, Ajay believes him; he tells the truth, Ajay calls him a liar. Sabal has done this to himself.

“If I say ‘no’ will that make this easier for you, brother?” he asks.

“Just answer me,” Ajay snaps. Sabal touches his face. He nods.

“It was the truth,” he says.

“When?” Ajay demands. That's a question he doesn't much know the answer to. _When_?

“Couldn't say, brother,” Sabal murmurs. “From the beginning, perhaps? Or maybe just now, in retrospect. Does it matter?” He was awed and amazed by Ajay from the beginning, just like his father, but even in retrospect Sabal has no way of properly dissecting those feelings. Was it really only respect or had Sabal simply grown up knowing never to feel such things for other men? He'll never know.

“It matters,” Ajay stresses out. He grits his teeth, everything about him looking disheveled and frayed. Sabal has done this to him. “You- fuck, _fuck_! Why?” he demands again. Sabal doesn't answer, his reply doesn't change. “Why couldn't you just let me believe we were okay? You always have you run your fucking mouth, _fuck_! Fuck. You think I'm a monster? Were those all lies, too? A psychopath? Some out of control man who ‘likes other men’ and just wants to fuck and kill?”

Sabal stands, holding his khukri in one hand. He can't stand anymore of this. There's nothing he can do, nothing he can say that could ever fix this. Everything he's ever held dear is gone. The Golden Path, his faith, his culture, his Mohan, and Ajay himself. It's all come down to this.

“What's it going to be, brother?” Sabal asks again, holding his arms out. Ajay aims more firmly at him. Seconds tick by. Perhaps, a very selfish part of Sabal that's never been very good at being quiet, hopes that Ajay will embrace him and all can be forgiven. Perhaps he'd prefer death.

“Go,” Ajay says shortly, lowering his gun. _Go_? Sabal doesn't want to _go_. This is- punishment. Ajay making him live with the choices he's made, drive himself mad with his own regret while Kyrat burns down around him. Sabal drops his khukri.

“Gone, brother. Gone.”

\- x -

Sabal spends the last rupees in his pocket on whiskey. People stare, people always stare, but no one says anything to him. Word of Jalendu has spread quickly and regardless of who people were siding with, they know him. With the fall of the temple, they know he has fallen as well. Do they know more than that? Probably not. It’ll only be a matter of time until Amita begins her ruination upon their very souls.

Shrines first, he imagines. Temples and the people who pray in them. The destruction of precious idols and artifacts for the sake of money. And Bhadra. What does a godless heathen do with a living goddess? ‘If something happens to Bhadra, something happens to you’. He wonders if that means _anything_ to Amita.

Sabal sits in a bush, not that far from town, and drinks. It doesn’t make him feel better but it makes him feel something which is better than anything else right now. He hasn’t been drunk in a very, very long time. He remembers not liking it much, though, lowered inhibitions and thoughts about other men he knew he shouldn’t be having. While he hopes it would have been different, if he has realised this about himself sooner, he doubts it. He still would have used it to manipulate Ajay, he just would have been better at it.

Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Amita has changed just like he has. Maybe she didn’t need to realise she loved someone so dearly in order to change. Jalendu is dead but perhaps that’s enough to sate her taste for the destruction of everything Kyrat has ever stood for. Even if not, it’s not like Ajay would stand by and let her turn the whole country into a drug state. She should know better than to even try.

But then again, Ajay never said he would stay.

For so long, Sabal was the only thing between Amita and the destruction of their culture and tradition alike. Perhaps she felt the same, though, like she was the only thing keeping him for launching them into a country wide cultist dream. Is that what he would have become if not for Ajay, if not for Amita dare he say? Clawing at a dream that was never his for a man who, for all Sabal knows, would have bled him until he stopped liking other men?

Mohan was kind of a dick.

Sabal wanders off. He stays off the roads, stumbling drunkenly through Kyrat’s wilderness in a direction he doesn’t rightfully know. The animals are as mean as they ever are and the Royal Army more so but he isn’t looking for a fight and he runs from what he can. He buys more liquor with rupees from dead guards.

Amita would make a good leader and with Ajay at her side, she’s unstoppable. Maybe he has changed her, those slight comments where she seemed to want to try to reach out but Sabal was so defensive, so angry, he’d never let her. She wasn’t what Sabal thought a woman should be, he couldn’t trust anything about her. He isn’t what he thought a man should be.

Without realising it, Sabal takes himself back to Lake Visalakhutta. It's peaceful out here. It wasn't always. Drunk and disoriented, he strays to the lake edge and collapses to his knees to splash some water on his face. It doesn't help much but the coolness feels refreshing- even if it's still tainted water. He sits back in the sand, downing another mouthful of whatever he bought.

Lots of things happened at this lake. His father took him here with several other children to learn something about survival techniques; pitching tents, starting fires, watching one another's back. It's where he saw Mohan up close for the first time. He wasn't even ten, how could he have ever known? Mohan gave him a pat on the head and said he saw good things in Sabal’s future. That wasn't the only thing he was wrong about, obviously.

It's also where he met Amita for the first time. She was- angrier than she is now somehow or maybe back then she just didn't know how to control it as well. They were here for hours that day, first talking then yelling then _fighting_. Sabal has never been in a fight more vicious or more evenly matched than he had with her. It was the only time they physically fought and they only stopped because they exhausted themselves too much to continue.

It was where Sabal spent a long night with a Golden Path soldier he really, really wishes he could remember the name of. They talked for a long time, laughed and smiled and shared ideas. Sabal was younger then, more eager and light hearted and happy. He realises now how much flirting had been going on; how disappointed the other man had been when he realised Sabal didn't get it. If he had known then what he knows now, perhaps things would be very different. Had he known, that probably would have been his first time with _anyone_. It probably would have been better than his actual first time.

Then they got pushed from the north and cut off completely.

Sabal walks, or stumbles really, around the lake until he finds a torn and abandoned tent. Like most things in Kyrat, its occupants seem to have been chased off, and likely killed, by animals. Of the feral kind or the Royal kind, Sabal couldn't say. It doesn't matter. If Kyra wanted him to die, she would have made it at the hands of Ajay. He drunkenly spends several hours fumbling around in the dark to put it upright again. Ultimately, he just wakes up face down in the sand in the morning with little recollection of how he got there but with a fully repaired tent.

Lake Visalakhutta is quiet even full of demon fish and crocodiles. Sabal washes himself briefly, huddles in his jacket for the familiarity of it, and scrapes together a few more rupees to buy more booze from a sherpa wandering by. He drinks more, thinks more, tries to pray but can't find it in himself to so much as ask for Kyra to hear him. A pair on pilgrimage give him some spare incense, that Sabal thanks them profoundly for, and he meditates instead.

Everything is out of his hands; Ajay, Amita, Bhadra, the Golden Path, the future of Kyrat, Pagan Min. He is free and he is trapped. Trapped by his own inability to just let go. He feels useless, worthless and drunk and stupid, not doing anything while everything still happens around him. If Ajay leaves Kyrat, if Amita turns out to be foolish enough to try to force them into a drug state, new resistance will arise. It won't be Sabal, of course not, but it will be. Another war, another fight, until anything that Kyrat ever was or could have been is drowned in blood and gunpowder.

If Ajay stays, if Amita has changed, though? Kyrat will become something _unrecognizable_ to someone like Sabal. He's accepted that's not a bad thing. What he wanted for Kyrat’s future was a bad thing if not simply because it was never what _he_ wanted. It was just some scraped together ideology he made for himself from the broken pieces of things people left behind- Mohan specifically. This started so young for him, he was trained and taught and forced to think the way he does, that he’s sure he'll never know what he truly wants.

Even if he does, he'd never be able to admit to it. Just like he could never admit he wanted Mohan or Ajay or any number of men he tricked himself into thinking was a strong urge for friendship and platonic affection. Even now, even _drunk_ , trying to admit to himself he wants to touch Ajay, to be touched by Ajay, in a sexual manner makes him feel guilty and shameful. He doesn't _want_ to be ashamed of loving Ajay, of wanting to touch him, but it's hard. It's harder knowing what he's done to Ajay in the process.

Sabal drinks himself unconscious again. 


	17. Ashes to Ashes

Sabal mediatates. That's about all he does now a days. He protects himself if something comes at him and idly scavenges for rupees to buy more booze but only as he needs to. The stares people give him have turned into pity now, watching quietly as he's gone from leader of the Golden Path to a drunk vagrant- even if he doesn't usually stray far. Some people give him money, some give him discounts, other just give him food knowing he just buys booze. No one talks to him much but Sabal guesses, he doesn't either.

He prefers it this way.

Though he has no idea why, there are still people who respect him. Occasionally a soldier will stop to help him not pass out in the street or even ask if he's just okay and Sabal nods and finds a different bush to sleep in. He's more surprised that honestly, no one really bothers him. No one's shown up mad that he failed Kyra by letting Jalendu fall, no one has come looking for him mad he abandoned the Golden Path, no one chases him away. He's really that pathetic, isn't he?

It's been weeks.

Sabal has had lots of time to think between getting so drunk he can't sit up straight and making a mild effort to take care of himself. Some people are very mad about what Amita is doing but overall, Sabal can't see anything wrong. Pagan Min is dead and Kyrat is back in the people’s hands and she is doing her best to give them a running start at something new. There are people stubbornly refusing to follow her, Sabal’s fault really, but with Ajay around they don't do anything drastic as of yet.

It's slow but change is happening. Sabal doesn't know why he never thought about it, temporarily making temples and places of worship double as schools and clinics. Drugs are moving not in but out, shipments leaving Kyrat by the brick and bringing back money and the more it happens, the less opium fields Sabal sees. People are working the land until their fingers are raw not to produce drugs but to try to make it viable again. It's slow and hard but it seems to be working.

Amita really did change. The Amita he knew, that he had grown so accustomed to arguing with, would have never done this. She would have driven Kyrat into nothing more than a totalitarian drug state with no patience or care for preserving any amount of their history. While he was busy trying to convince Ajay he wasn't the biggest asshole on the planet, Amita was obviously learning something else.

Sabal doesn't hate her. He hates that given the chance, he would have truly ruined Kyrat with his poorly realised aspirations. He hates that he was likely a driving force in making her think their religion meant nothing. He hates that he never took the time to even try to understand her and realise they could see eye to eye. He doesn't think he hates himself, he's too wasted for that, but he'd have to know who he was in order to do that, anyways.

“Sabal,” someone calls to him. Sabal opens his eyes blearily from his sleep-slash-meditation to look at the soldier. He's spoken to Sabal before, gave him a blanket for a cold night and was promptly scolded by the boy's mother when Sabal washed it and tried to return it; Prawon. “My mother wants me to invite you for dinner.”

“I appreciate the gesture, brother,” Sabal murmurs, twisting the cap off his latest bottle of whiskey to have another drink. “But I'm afraid I have no way to repay you and your kindness at the moment. I'll have to pass.”

“Sabal,” Prawon urges, approaching him dejectedly. “If I don't bring you back with me, mother will skin you and I both. You did a lot for this country, you know. We're repaying you.” Sabal laughs. People truly don't understand that at the end of the day, he was just another obstacle in this war.

“Very well,” Sabal agrees. He is hungry but there's not often a time when he isn't. His rupees go to drinking away his sadness and cleansing away his thoughts with incenses now a days. Prawon helps him to his feet, gently pushing the liquor bottle out of his hand so he won't take it with him, and guides him back to Utkarsh. They've recovered nicely from the mortar attacks. It's truly amazing what the Golden Path can do when they're organized under a single guidance.

People still stare.

Sabal washes his hands outside, making sure they're properly clean before entering Prawon’s home. He's greeted warmly by Prawon’s mother, Ranjana, and urged to sit, clearly everyone here more than ready to ignore the fact that Sabal smells like he sleeps in a distillery. She gives him some tea and tells him to wait, food is almost ready, before yelling at her son to help her finish. They're a nice family. Sabal tries not to doze off in the meantime. The tea is both sobering and lulling- and clean? The film that once coated one's mouth no matter what is strangely absent. The water of Kyrat is still polluted, it'll take much more time to clean it, but clearly people are starting to get fresh water from somewhere.

“Mama! I brought a guest!” someone else announces as they come in. This must be her other son, the one Sabal only knows so far as ‘much happier now that he knows he's okay’. Ranjana happily bustles back out to greet another friendly face but she stops rather abruptly and stares for a moment. Sabal is too disoriented to really take note of the way she discreetly tries to shake her head. “What's wrong, mama?” Ranjana puts her head in her hand.

“I can leave,” Ajay assures. Ah. Sabal should not have come here. “I'm sorry, I don't want to put you out.”

“No, no,” Ranjana urges, quickly trying to make more room to let Ajay sit. “There is enough food for everyone, please come in.” It's not a large home, though, and wherever Ajay sits is likely far too close to Sabal for his liking. Nevertheless, he sits and Ranjana makes him tea as well before going on to scold her other son and pull him away to the kitchen. If Sabal knew her other son was Sarang, he absolutely wouldn't have come here.

Sabal quietly looks at his tea so he doesn't look at Ajay. All of a sudden it is _too_ sobering and he feels ashamed and disgusted with himself for being so drunk in the first place. They don't speak to each other for a long time. Sabal doesn't know why he initiates it.

“Congratulations on getting rid of Pagan Min, brother,” he says. Ajay doesn't say anything. “Lakshmana-”

“My half sister,” he says shortly.

“Ah,” Sabal murmurs. “You found her, then?”

“Yeah,” Ajay replies. Sabal nods. He wishes he didn't smell like sadness and dirt now if only because he never wanted pity and not especially from Ajay. That's not something he deserves.

“You're still in Kyrat, then,” Sabal comments, sipping quietly as their nice hostess scolds her two sons louder for such an awkward meal they're about to have. He's not sure why he asks questions he's not ready for the answer to, either. Perhaps because he hadn't realised how sad he'd actually be to find out Ajay plans on leaving until his stomach twisted.

“Yeah,” Ajay says. “There's still stuff to do. I'm helping Amita clean things up so we can move forward from here.” That might take a very long time.

“She's doing wonderfully,” Sabal says. “I guess that doesn't mean much from me.” Again, Ajay doesn't say anything. “And- Bhadra?” He sees Ajay's fingers tighten around his cup tensely, his jaw stiffen, teeth clenched, and eyes- Sabal looks away again.

“Hurk walks her to school everyday,” he says. The weird white monkey man? Well, at least she's okay. Sabal hasn't heard anything about her from the radio but for once, silence is better. “She's good.”

“I'm glad,” Sabal replies. He almost ruined a little girl’s life. Ranjana scurried back out with food and eagerly her and her sons help set everything in what room they have to do so. None of them are small people. Sabal supposes Sarang really was fond of Ajay. That's nice, he guesses.

Fortunately everyone else talks so Sabal and Ajay don't have to. Ajay eats like he always has, slow and polite but hungry. Sabal has lost his appetite. They talk about Ajay, ask him questions he can answer quickly and shortly, and politely avoid doing the same for Sabal. Ajay is a busy man, he always has been, but Sabal is- still too drunk to get all of his food into his mouth all of the time. It's nice to hear he's doing well, though. Ranjana pushes several helpings of food onto both of them until they finally have had their fill and she is satisfied that they are.

Afterward, she urges her sons back into the kitchen to help her clean. It's quiet again. Sabal stands, gently trying to pat himself out and quietly makes his way to the kitchen to offer help. He's refused, of course, and instead says his goodbyes. Ranjana urges him to sleep the night but, of course, he refuses. He has to slink back out past Ajay to leave and it feels awkwardly leaving without saying anything.

“It was good seeing you again, Ajay,” Sabal says. Ajay looks at him perhaps for the first time tonight but Sabal has been working too hard not to look at him to have noticed. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Sabal,” he replies. There, that's done with and Sabal can return to his solitary punishment thinking about what he's done. It could have gone worse considering the last time he saw Ajay he had a gun pointed at him. It could have gone worse than that even, with Sabal breaking down into pathetic sobs as he drunkenly apologises for everything. That would be inappropriate, though. Ajay doesn't want to deal with him anymore than he has to.

He spends the rupees he's saved for another bottle of whiskey on another bottle of whiskey and makes his way back out of town. Maybe he'll finally pick up and go somewhere else. The lake is nice and there's nice thoughts associated to it but it's cold at night and he doesn't want to start being a bother on people. There are other nice places.

“Sabal,” Ajay calls to him. Sabal pauses, peers over his shoulder to watch as Ajay follows after him. “Hold on.” If he runs now, Ajay will definitely catch him but- “Can we talk?”

“Of course, brother,” Sabal murmurs. “Anything you want. I owe you that much.” Ajay sighs. They walk absently in the direction Sabal was going, anyways. He's a vagrant but Ajay is an ‘adventurer’; he wanders where he chooses.

“I'm sorry about what happened between us,” he says.

“Don't apologise to me,” Sabal scoffs. “Really, brother, don't.”

“I was angry,” Ajay assures.

“You had every right to be. You _still_ do,” Sabal answers. “I'd apologise but with my record, I doubt it'll come off well.”

“I'd actually really like a fucking apology,” Ajay mumbles. A quiet moment passes where Sabal tries to figure out if he's being sincere. He's not sure what it matters, honestly, or why he cares if he's being sincere. He owes one regardless. He owes more than words he could ever say.

“I'm sorry, Ajay,” Sabal says. “For manipulating you and for hurting you like I did.”

“You never did tell me why you did it,” Ajay says. “And yeah, I know you wanted to get ahead of Amita. I don't think pretending to be my boyfriend was your best option of that.”

“I was a very confused man, Ajay,” Sabal assures him. “I still am, I think. I have thought about it a lot and I believe I was always attracted to you but I was lead to believe for so long that I wasn't _allowed_ to like other men.”

“Toxic masculinity,” Ajay nods in agreement. “I- understand that, yeah.”

“I tricked myself into having a reason to be with you and- didn't consider your feelings at all. No, that's not fair. I knew if you ever found out you would- at the very least it would likely end with my death, but it was my hope you'd never find out,” Sabal continues. “Kyra lead me down a rocky path that I needed to take to realise who I was wasn't real. I used that as an excuse to hurt you.”

“You really are gay, then?” Ajay asks. Sabal nods.

“I,” he pauses to laugh a little. “I'm very gay, yes. I loved Mohan and in retrospect, many other men along the way. I had no way to know that before you, I'm afraid.”

“I can't say I appreciate you using me to figure yourself out but I get it, I guess. I want to say if you'd just been honest with me from the beginning, we could have talked things out but I don't think that was ever an option for you,” Ajay says.

“No,” Sabal murmurs. Sharing his feelings about liking other men _with_ another man? “No, I don't think it was.” There were so many things that could have made everything so different. Sabal begins, more habitually, to crack open his bottle but hesitates awkwardly to actually drink at the moment and holds off. “Can I ask you something, brother?”

“I guess,” Ajay replies, a little unsurely.

“You asked me what I wanted out of a relationship with you but I never asked you,” Sabal says. Ajay sighs.

“I told you, I was just being selfish. I came here having left everything behind and I needed something to fill that gap. You were handsome and surprisingly had some redeeming qualities and- I liked you,” he says and he scoffs mildly.

“It's unfortunate you chose me for that,” Sabal replies. “I'm sorry I let you down.”

“There's _no_ comparison but I used you, too, Sabal. I never should have tried to push my ‘emotional’ baggage on someone like that, especially without _telling_ them,” Ajay assures. Sabal doesn't think that counts as ‘using’, Ajay was just lonely. After everything he had been through, that seems fair. If anything, Sabal feels his habit for trying unnamed drugs was more telling of that. They walk quietly for a little longer.

“It's not my place but, Sarang is a good man,” Sabal murmurs. “I hope he helps with that more than I ever could.”

“Sarang?” Ajay answers mildly. “We're not dating, Sabal.”

“Oh,” Sabal says. “I'm sorry, I thought-”

“Sarang is nice and everything but, I don't know,” Ajay murmurs, letting out an irritable sigh. “I just never felt that connection, I guess. He's dating Rabi. They grew up in the same town or something?”

“Oh,” he repeats. That's- something he knows now. It's _really_ unfortunate Ajay felt that connection with him of all people.

“Sabal,” Ajay says. “I- really can't stress enough how much you hurt me but I don't want to hate you.”

“I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to make up for what I've done, brother,” Sabal murmurs.

“That's- we all make mistakes, Sabal. I've made a _lot_ of them,” Ajay assures. “Believe it or not, some of them _worse_ than what you did.” Sabal gives him a skeptical look. No, he doesn't believe that at all.

“Very well,” he replies. If that's what this is about, Sabal isn't going to deny Ajay his closure to what happened here. Perhaps now Ajay can forget about it. “What can I do, then, to help?” Again, Ajay sighs.

“There's nothing at stake anymore,” Ajay says. “Not the Golden Path, or Kyrat, or- your life. I need you to be honest with me, okay?” Sabal nods in agreement. He has nothing to lie about anymore. He has nothing left but regrets. “You loved me, Sabal?”

“I love you very much, Ajay,” Sabal agrees. “After you confronted me about what you saw in Yuma’s hallucinations, I nearly told you everything but I was afraid. I didn't want to lose you.”

“Is that when you realised I actually meant something to you?” he asks.

“You always meant something to me, Ajay,” he assures. “But no, I realised I truly loved you long before that but even I couldn't say when exactly. There were a lot of obstacles for me to even admit it to myself.”

“All those things you told me, about Noore and Paul and Pagan, were they the truth?” Ajay asks.

“Of course,” Sabal agrees. “You're not a monster, Ajay. I would go as far as to say you're not even a killer. What you've done here was necessary and I'm willing to bet what you've done elsewhere was necessary in a different way. You've single handedly saved Kyrat, you still _are_ saving Kyrat, selfish people don't do that.”

“When did it stop being about manipulating me?” he asks.

“Honestly, I think it was after I realised you'd take Amita’s side anyways,” Sabal murmurs. “The brick factory. At that point, the lies I told myself were holding less and less water but I couldn't let go.”

They stop near the lake, the darkness giving only a slight glimpse of Sabal’s tent on the other side. It's a little chilly already but not too cold. He thinks he'll sleep okay tonight. Ajay breathes deeply and he nods.

“Okay,” he says.

“I hope this helped, Ajay,” Sabal says.

“It did, yeah,” Ajay promises faintly. They stand, perhaps both of them thinking what to do next, and it's quiet again. This has been surprising, really. Sabal didn't think Ajay would ever not be angry with him but then again, maybe that's just because Sabal wanted that anger. It was easier to deal with than disappointment and apathy.

“Well, Ajay,” Sabal murmurs. “I know you won't have me back but I have to ask a last favor, even if you refuse; I- I want to know your touch one last time, brother. If we could-”

“Sabal,” Ajay cuts him off, sighing deeply. “You're drunk.” To this, Sabal can only nod in shameful agreement. He lifts his bottle to, hopefully, push away anymore feelings but Ajay grabs his wrist to stop him. “I didn't say I wouldn't have you back. I didn't say I _would_ , either. I- have to think about a lot of things.”

“I could never ask you to take me back, Ajay,” Sabal assures.

“I don't want you to,” Ajay replies mildly. “I'll come back tomorrow, okay? If you're sober by then- we'll see.” See? See about what? Sabal can't hurt Ajay again and he's not sure he can trust himself not to. “Goodnight, Sabal.”

“Goodnight, Ajay,” Sabal says quietly. He looks at his whiskey bottle as Ajay walks off. Perhaps he's had enough.

\- x -

For the first time in a couple weeks now, Sabal actually prays again.

He apologises for a lot of things; not praying, the temple, Ajay, misreading signs, and many more things. Then he tells her, things he wouldn't- _couldn't_ tell anyone else. He tells her how much he still loves Ajay, how much he's fairly certain he loved Mohan before realising how awful he really was, and how he wishes he had understood this sooner so maybe he could have loved others better, too. He tells her about Amita, and how he regrets so dearly not being able to reach out to her when he had the chance and apologises that he had painted such a bad image of Kyra for her. He tells her how he's actually quite glad he's not leading anyone anymore and how he truly feared of the man he could have become and in turn, what would have become of those following him.

And then he asks. He asks if he's okay, really.

He doesn't get an answer, of course, but Sabal never expects any answers. It only matters that he speaks and she listens and he feels her still listening. He feels she made him exactly the way she wanted him to be and he doesn't need to know all the details so much as he needs to take the time and patience to understand them. He also feels he will have a much easier time at doing that if he listens better in the future which he promptly promises to do.

It's strange not drinking again and while Sabal withholds, he doesn't like it. All his aches and self pity come crawling back tenfold with the addition of feelings he didn't even know he was using alcohol to hold back. He just distracts himself for the day, bathing, then gutting and scaling the fish that attacked him, then awkwardly napping. Sleeping seems harder when he's sober and his dreams are realistically vivid and nightmarish but not nightmares. He thinks again.

Night comes eventually and with it, Sabal’s anxiety ramps up increasingly. He doesn't know if Ajay is actually going to show and he doesn't know if he's actually thought about anything. If he has? Sabal doesn't know what to do about that, either. He has no expectation that Ajay will even show up, but if by some impossible scenario he does? And he is willing to give Sabal another chance?

What is he supposed to do?

Sabal wants to say he'd never hurt Ajay again, especially not like this, but he doesn't trust himself. Are they really supposed to just go on pretending like the first part of their relationship wasn't anything but a lie orchestrated by a very confused Sabal to both be closer to Ajay and also manipulate him into doing his dirty work? Go on pretending like Sabal can _ever_ be a normal, functioning person after everything he's been through? Sabal doesn't even know if he _knows_ how to have a healthy relationship with anyone, man or woman. Being that kind of burden on Ajay makes his gut twist all over again.

He'd rather be drinking.

The time comes and goes when Sabal is expecting Ajay to return and he wants nothing more than to immediately return to his liquor but he holds out a little longer. He knows Ajay gets caught up too easily to ever be somewhere as unimportant as this in a timely manner. Sabal is glad he does, too.

Eventually, Ajay does come along, out of the darkness of the trees and towards his tent. Sabal isn't relieved, but it's always nice seeing Ajay. He doesn't say anything immediately as Ajay stops in front of him, looking a little scratched up, and looks him over.

“Are you-?” Ajay asks vaguely. Sabal nods. Also for the first time in a couple weeks, he's sober. Ajay looks at the assortment of empty bottles around and in his tent.

“Those are- not from tonight,” Sabal assures. Ajay's brow furrows a little and he almost seems to frown but it's gone too quickly. “I wasn't sure you'd actually come back, brother.”

“I almost didn't,” Ajay admits. Sabal frowns. “I had a lot to think about, Sabal.” He shouldn’t be exerting so much energy on him. Ajay certainly has better things to do. Quietly, Ajay comes to sit beside him and Sabal unfolds his hands from his praying position to rest on his legs instead. He’s not sure what to say, he rarely does now a days- or even just when Ajay is involved in general.

“Does Amita know I’m still alive?” he asks instead.

“She does now,” Ajay murmurs.

“Was she mad?” Sabal questions.

“Do you have to ask?” he scoffs back. Sabal laughs quietly. He supposes not. Ajay looks up at the sky and Sabal looks at him. He knows he’s going to get an answer one way or another by the end of this so he doesn’t think he really needs to ask. Perhaps realising Sabal is looking at him, Ajay looks back down and Sabal smiles briefly. It’s slow, Sabal is almost certain he is imagining it, that Ajay leans into him and kisses him, gently at first and then more familiar. Sabal can’t help how eager he is to respond initially, the tender touch of their tongues making him once more sad in his yearning for it.

“Ajay,” he says, stopping before they get too far. “You don’t-”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Ajay asks. There’s his answer, he supposes. This is it, one last time. A part of him is glad Ajay made him be sober for this and another part of him wishes he had self sabotaged himself.

“Yeah,” Sabal replies. “It is.” So Ajay kisses him again and Sabal tries not to forget how to do absolutely everything. The hand that touches his face is gentle and it’s not that he doesn’t want it to be, but it only makes him regret how much harm he’s done to Ajay. After everything, aside from a few smacks that Sabal is certain were nowhere near as hard as Ajay could have hit him, he is tender.

Sabal cups his face, feels the prick of Ajay’s neatly groomed facial hair on his fingertips as he coasts them over his jaw. Always so clean, always so neatly groomed, even in the middle of a war torn country. He threads his fingers in Ajay’s hair, trying so hard to allow him the same tender touches, and he’s certain they would come easier with whiskey. It came easier with blood loss, too. Maybe he understands Ajay a little better now.

Ajay doesn’t kiss him any different than he ever has, no more forceful and no more unwilling; the same warm embrace Sabal had come to actually look forward to. He’s right, there’s nothing at risk anymore. Sabal doesn’t have to worry what people will think of him anymore, the truth is out, there’s nothing left for him to ‘convince’ Ajay of, and this is the last time. He feels more heavy than ever.

Slowly, Ajay dances his hand along Sabal’s side and then under his shirt, rough fingers following his waist. Then he stops, pulls away a little, and the darkness around them is only cut by a sliver of the moon and a distant lantern. He stands and without thinking about it, Sabal follows him into his tent. To be honest, he ends up passing out in the sand or falling asleep while he meditates more often than he actually sleeps in the tent he reclaimed. That only means it’s fairly clean in here, though, only littered with some half finished bottles and saved full ones. Sabal doesn’t care much for beer but he’s not picky lately.

As Ajay pulls off his jacket and sweater, Sabal pushes his own off. Ajay sits on the makeshift bed, not that comfortable but livable as most things turned out to be. He watches as Sabal unbuttons his shirt, still stained with blood that won’t come out, and quickly leaves it with the rest of their clothes. The scar on his abdomen is still carved into his skin, still dark and scabbed in some places but old nonetheless. He joins Ajay on the bed and carefully moves into him to kiss again.

Gradually, Ajay lays and Sabal follows, holding himself up on his forearm and knees as to not rest his weight on him. Ajay’s arms wrap around him, around his chest first and then his hands stray to his back and then his waist. Sabal dips his hand under Ajay’s shirt, tracing the much older scars as he pushes it up. Nimble fingers unbutton his jeans and Ajay strokes his cock from mostly soft to enticingly firm with ease. This time, Sabal knows what he wants.

They stop kissing briefly as Sabal glances down, watching as Ajay hurriedly undoes his own jeans and pulls his half erect cock out before grabbing Sabal’s hip again. He pushes his mouth up against Sabal’s and pulls his hips down to grab both their cocks in his hand. Sabal groans deeply, eagerly trying to get his mouth closer to Ajay’s, and awkwardly bumping their teeth together in a way that makes Ajay scoff a laugh.

“Ajay,” Sabal says, already panting as his skin jumps with electric pleasure. Ajay ruts his hips to grind their cocks together in his hand and Sabal tightens his hand in the sheets. “I want more,” he murmurs and he hopes it sounds the way he means it to. Ajay looks over his face and it's now that Sabal realises he's not _searching_ , he's reading. He's listening to things Sabal has never said.

“Yeah, okay,” Ajay replies with a slight nod. He ushers Sabal off him and Sabal moves aside as he reaches for his bag. Sabal is nervous, of course, but he wants this. Ajay shimmes out of his boxers and jeans, tossing them off to the side and Sabal hastily does the same. He knows what to expect a little, those videos he had barely watched giving him that much at least, but honestly that doesn't prepare him any.

Ajay returns to his side briefly and Sabal tries not to act too nervous with what he has. He kisses Sabal again and it makes it easy to relax a little. Mostly. Sabal’s still jolts a little when he hears the plastic snap of Ajay opening the bottle he has. They stop kissing and Ajay takes his hand, the left one, and pours a fair amount of the cool lube onto his fingers. Sabal’s heart races.

“Easy, okay?” Ajay says and Sabal nods. He adjusts to lay a little closer and then Sabal’s hand is lead between Ajay's thighs. _Oh_. Something about this feels particularly ironic to Sabal, honestly. For so long he has been so worried about one of them ‘playing the woman’ when they both can just be men. Ajay holds his wrist faintly to guide him and Sabal tentative rubs a finger against his taint.

The response he gets is startlingly erotic. Ajay shudders out a breath and flutters his eyes closed, twitching his hips before holding himself still. His fingers dig into Sabal’s arm like he wants nothing more than to hold him still and use him to do it himself. Sabal runs a pair of fingers over his ass, rubbing the lube in as he watches Ajay's face for hints. Ajay nods impatiently and Sabal pushes a finger inside him. He jerks his chin up a touch with a hot grunt.

Sabal follows Ajay's instructs, both said and unsaid, to his best ability. This isn't something he's thought too hard about, always having assumed Ajay would be the one giving, but he's definitely thinking about it now. Though he goes slow at first, Ajay soon urges him to move a little quicker and use another finger until he's fucking Ajay with his fingers consistently. Ajay groans with every twist of his fingers, rocking his hips minutely each time as his cock drools precum. Sabal moves in to catch Ajay's lips again and Ajay replies eagerly.

It's not immediately obvious if Ajay prefers this and has been waiting for it or if he'd rather be doing something else or if he simply doesn't have a preference at all. He seems very into this. It's much different than Sabal expected in a lot of ways, too. Ajay pulls a hand around Sabal’s neck, fingers digging into his nape, but maintains a hold on Sabal’s wrist with the other. He rasps a hot noise against Sabal’s mouth. When he finally lets go of Sabal’s wrist, it's only to reach for something.

“Put this on,” he instructs, handing Sabal the condom. “It should fit.”

“Okay,” Sabal agrees hastily. He pulls his fingers out slowly and Ajay shudders out a small exhale. As Sabal works to get the condom open, he can't help but watch as Ajay pours more lube onto his own fingers and vigorously fingers himself. He rolls the condom on quickly and Ajay ceases his preparation in order to drizzle more lube onto his cock and stroke it in. Sabal kisses him eagerly and Ajay adjusts himself into position a little more.

“I’m ready,” Ajay assures, grasping Sabal’s thigh and pulling him closer. He strokes Sabal’s cock with his fingers as he carefully positions the tip against his stretched hole. With their tongues meeting again and again, Sabal grasps Ajay’s thigh and neck to have something to hold on to. He rolls his hips minutely and Ajay groans in reply as Sabal slowly sinks in. Ajay tangles one of his legs around Sabal’s to pull him closer.

“Ajay,” Sabal murmurs between kisses and nips.

“You can move,” Ajay says. “Fuck me.” A jolt goes down Sabal’s spine. He says it so _easily_. Sabal gives an experimental buck and Ajay makes a faint hiss that turns into a groan. He kisses harder and Sabal replies with another thrust. Each rewarding, confirming noise urges Sabal on, gradually rocking his hips into Ajay quicker and more fully until he's fucking him at proper pace. He's tight and warm and the cool night does little to stop either of them from sweating.

“Fuck,” Ajay rasps out. “ _Sabal_.” They're so close. Sabal can feel Ajay's rough fingers on him, the knots and ridges of his scars pressed against his body, the smooth contrast between them, and the flex of his tones muscles with every move. Ajay's hard cock is pressed between them, slick in his own precum and rubbing against Sabal’s stomach. Even when Ajay moves against him, Sabal can feel the bristle of his coarse facial hair rub against his own. It's a lot to take in but Sabal tries very hard. He wants to remember all of it.

“Ajay,” Sabal groans back, coasting a hand down his thigh as he tries to grapple for a better angle in their position. Ajay grunts suddenly in response and his fingers dig in harder, prompting Sabal to thrust in at that angle again and getting another raspy moan. He moves away from kissing to mouthing against Sabal’s neck. The little bruises, little bite marks he had left before have gone now but he seems more than happy to make more.

Ajay clenches down around him suddenly and Sabal lets out a sharp grunt. His orgasm catches him a little off guard and Ajay lets out a small huff of a noise against him. There's a small stillness as Sabal catches his breath before Ajay moves back a little and Sabal gingerly pulls out. They both just pant for a moment. Ajay's cock twitches longingly.

“Ajay,” Sabal says, pausing briefly just to kiss him again. “If you want to- as well, I wouldn't mind, brother.”

“Want to?” Ajay repeats and after a second, he seems to understand. “Sabal, it's fine. You don't have to do that.”

“I want to,” Sabal encourages and he forces the sticky words out of his mouth this time, “fuck me.”

“This isn't, like, an end all, you know. You don't have to, uh, ‘receive’ just to prove something to me or that you're gay or whatever,” he assures. “Just touch me.”

“I know,” Sabal murmurs. “Please, Ajay. I do want to.” Even if it is only to prove something to himself, he doesn't think it should matter that much. Ajay certainly seemed to enjoy it. He sighs.

“Alright,” Ajay agrees quietly. “If you're sure.” Sabal is sure. He had, after all, been expecting this the entire time for what was apparently no good reason. Ajay fumbles with the lube again while Sabal pulls his condom off and hastily ties it off. Just with his motions alone, Ajay ushers Sabal onto his back again and leans over him to resume kissing. Slick fingers make their way between his thighs and Sabal grips Ajay's shoulders nervously as he feels then tentatively prod his ass. He closes his eyes.

Inherently, Sabal tightens his grip as Ajay very slowly and carefully pushes a finger in. It doesn't hurt and it's not uncomfortable but it's a new, strange feeling. He tries not to clench down, tries to relax, and Ajay kissing him more firmly helps. The warm lube and roughness of Ajay's fingers make it surprisingly easy to get into as he pushes his finger in to the knuckle. Ajay strokes his soft cock in his other hand and Sabal moans weakly but he's still recuperating.

It's anguishingly slow as Ajay tries to stretch him open, fingering him gradually quicker but never fast. He pours more lube between Sabal’s thighs as he adds a second finger and works it in. Sabal pants and groans quietly against Ajay's mouth, the strangeness quite quickly giving way to something more pleasurable. That lingering sense of guilt for enjoying something like this creeps into him again, a feeling he had more or less shooed away with alcohol, and he tries not to think about it too much.

Ajay curls his fingers and a startled moan slips out suddenly. Sabal digs his fingers into Ajay's shoulder tighter, another jolt of pleasure striking his spine as Ajay does it again. His chest shakes pathetically as he tries not to whimper. He doesn’t know why but that feels _really_ good.

“Ajay,” Sabal grunts, moving his hands up to the back of Ajay's head. “Go ahead, brother. I want it.” He's taken much more time prepping Sabal than he had himself, for obvious reasons of course, but the anticipation it far more excruciating.

“Okay,” Ajay says back, his breath heavy as he catches his lips briefly again. “Okay, okay.” He moves, reaching for his bag again and Sabal finds somewhere else to look while Ajay unwraps another condom. Once he realises he's doesn't _need_ to look away, he quickly turns his eyes back again and watches as Ajay rolls on a new condom before thoroughly slicking himself with more lube.

Sabal strokes himself as Ajay moves into position, his soft cock twitching with arousal as he tries to urge it erect. Ajay pulls Sabal’s thighs over his own just enough to get closer, his hands straying along his hairy legs as he goes. Again, Sabal tilts his head away but this time more for nervousness and a vague embarrassment from being in such a revealing position.

“Sabal,” Ajay calls his attention again, cupping his face so he can kiss him more fully. When he pulls back, he looks over Sabal’s face again and truly, Sabal has no doubt Ajay knew there was something wrong from the very beginning. “This shouldn't hurt, okay? You have to- let me know.”

“Of course, brother,” Sabal agrees, nodding his head in Ajay's hand. He's nervous and excited? Everytime he thought about doing anything inmate with Ajay over the last couple months, he always imagined it was this. That's what he just assumed Ajay wanted. Sabal realises now that maybe it was just himself that wanted it.

Ajay doesn't seem nervous, just a little thoughtful and maybe a little eager. His breathing is heavy and slow as he moves closer, leaning over Sabal and bracing one hand against the bed beneath him. With his other, he presses the head of his cock against Sabal’s well slicked asshole. Sabal’s breath hitches as Ajay's hard cock enters him, something much different feeling than his fingers. He strokes his cock more, closing his eyes and trying to ease his breathing as Ajay sinks further in.

Though strange, Sabal finds it oddly intimate. Ajay kisses him tenderly, his hands following the expanses of his form, as he slowly gets closer. Sabal lets out a small groan as he feels Ajay press against him fully, finally. For a moment after, he just stays still and lets Sabal feel him completely. He clenches down and gets a groan from both of them for it.

“It doesn't hurt,” Sabal assures, his hand caught behind Ajay's neck. “I'm ready for more, Ajay, please.” Ajay groans quietly. He runs his hand over Sabal’s thigh and bucks his hips suddenly. Sabal jolts at the sudden pleasure that hits him. It's a significant difference from simply resting and Sabal shudders. Ajay moves to kiss upon his neck again, each little thrust he makes building momentum. He puts his hand over Sabal’s, gently squeezing his stiffening cock and Sabal exhales hotly.

“Sabal,” Ajay murmurs against his skin. “Are you-?”

“Yeah,” Sabal answers hastily. “Just, give me a second.” Ajay nods in breathless agreement. Sabal returns the gentle mouthing of kisses and bites to Ajay's shoulder, doing his best to hold back. The last time, he shouldn't leave Ajay with marks from it, from him. Ajay doesn't seem to have a similar idea, however, leaving bruises across his neck and throat almost thoughtlessly as he grows more confident in every thrust. It's not long at all until Sabal’s cock is achingly hard again and Ajay is fucking him thoroughly. Every thrust is a jolt to his entire being.

Sabal is aware of how quiet is aside from their pants and moans, the sound of skin on skin and the occasional rasp of one another's name. It's intimate and close and a new feeling grips Sabal; loneliness. He pushes it aside to focus, focus on his fingers dug into Ajay's skin, the feel of Ajay's mouth on his, every thrust that rocks him against the bedding.

In what is clearly becoming a habit, or maybe just Ajay's true colours shining through, Ajay bites down on the junction of his neck and shoulder hard as he comes. His hips stutter off rhythm, making Sabal grunt and close his eyes again. Ajay licks and kisses the bite he's left behind as he strokes Sabal’s cock more attentively, urging him to another orgasm. Sabal catches his mouth in his own again and they share another tongue laced kiss as Sabal comes as well.

The chill of the night leaves a discomfort in the aftermath, sweat cooling to Sabal’s body all too quickly. He groans as Ajay pulls out and relaxes his sore legs on the bed. Of course Ajay was gentle with him, Sabal expected nothing else, but he certainly didn't have to be. Even when everything is said and done, Ajay moves to lay beside him instead of packing up to leave as quick as possible. Sabal feels both relieved and saddened, glad to have this last exchange but disappointed that it's over.

As Sabal reaches for a partial bottle to finish off, Ajay catches his breath beside him. Maybe eventually Sabal can move on, too, find something new to do with his life. He's quite aware of Ajay watching him as he downs a couple mouthfuls of booze. It helps, there's nothing more he can say than that. Ajay breathes deep.

“What now?” he asks quietly.

“You'll have to be more specific, brother,” Sabal murmurs, pulling his hair from its ponytail with one hand and pushing it back. Ajay casts his eyes down briefly before rolling onto his back and staring at the top of the tent.

“What are you going to do now, Sabal?” he clarifies. Sabal doesn't know that himself, honestly. He's had weeks to think about it and he hasn't come up with anything. He's not sure he _knows_ how to do anything else. All his life he's trained to lead the Golden Path and Kyrat itself and now, he knows nothing else.

“I don't know,” Sabal says. “Not that it matters. Amita knows I'm alive, knows what I've done, she won't stand for it.” Why she sent Ajay to do her dirty work in the first place is a mystery to him. She won't make that mistake again. Whether she's changed or not, Sabal is still not a friend to her or her way of life in her eyes.

“Amita isn't going to bother you,” Ajay assures softly.

“Unfortunate,” Sabal replies, taking another drink. “Perhaps I'll go to the Himalayas. I doubt there's many people to bother up there.”

“You could stay at the Ghale homestead,” Ajay offers. He says Sabal’s name like it's intended to be said now, like he thinks about it every time he says it, but not his own. ‘Gale’.

“No, brother, that is your home and it belongs to you,” Sabal assures. “Even if you don't intend to live in it, I couldn't-”

“ _With_ me, Sabal,” Ajay says. Sabal looks back at him, unsure of what he's looking for. Ajay's face never gives much away when he wants it to, anyways. No, the only time he couldn't control himself was when he realised what Sabal had done. He really wants Sabal back? Broken and useless and burdened? After everything that's happened? Why?

“I mean,” Ajay goes on with a small sigh. “If I do this- if _we_ do this, there's gonna be rules, Sabal. I can't, and _won't_ , let you do what you did to me again.” ‘Rules’? Sabal can live with rules. “And- you have to talk to me, okay? And I'll talk to you. I know with the war going on, there wasn't a lot of time for anything really, but it's done with now. We have to talk about things and communicate if this is going to work.”

“Is that what you want, brother?” Sabal asks. “Even after what I did, you still want to try to make things work between us?” Ajay stays quiet for a long time, perhaps thinking about it again before he actually answers, perhaps changing his mind.

“Yeah,” he finally answers. “Yeah, I do. I was telling the truth, too, you know. I love you, Sabal. If things don't work out, then they don't work out but- I'm selfish, I guess. I want to try.” Sabal takes another drink. Even if Ajay can forgive him or forget about it or however he deals with this, Sabal is still not the man Ajay fell in love with. He's something else now and even he doesn't know what.

“I want to, Ajay,” Sabal says. “I do, but-” he hesitates.

“But?” Ajay repeats and he almost sounds sad? Disappointed maybe.

“I- I'm afraid?” Sabal murmurs.

“Of what?” he urges. Sabal inhales deeply.

“I'm not sure, brother. Hurting you again? Finding out I'm not someone you want to be with, after all?” he says, rubbing the side of his bottle with his thumb. Ajay reaches out to touch him, always so tender.

“Sabal, I know you wouldn't know this, but those are normal fears people have about relationships, sometimes,” he promises. “Especially someone like you. You've been through a lot. I'm worried about things, too. That's why we talk.” Sabal looks at him again, frowning minutely. He's afraid and he's worried but-

He lets himself have this.

“Okay,” Sabal says. “If you're sure.”

“I'm sure,” Ajay murmurs. “I'm willing to forgive you, Sabal, but you have to, too.”

“I'll try to work on that,” Sabal promises as he takes another long drink. “I- thank you, Ajay. I hope I can be better this time.” Ajay smiles at him, small and quiet. When one path ends, Kyra guides them down another. Life is full of many paths, Sabal guesses. This time, he promises himself and Kyra both to accept the help along the way.

“I love you, Sabal,” Ajay says. Sabal’s eyes sting a little.

“I love you, too, Ajay,” he replies softly. Ajay sits up and very gently, very tenderly, wraps his arms around Sabal’s chest and hugs him as he cries. “I'm so sorry, brother. I'm so sorry. I love you very, very much.”

Ajay kisses him softly and eventually, they fall asleep, woven together on Sabal’s bed mat. Sabal’s never slept easy in his life until tonight. 


	18. Rest, Recovery

Actually living in Ajay's home is strange in a way. Sabal has stayed here on and off, never actually having a home of his own, but he never considered himself to live here. Without anywhere else to be, Sabal is just kind of around now. Ajay comes and goes like he always has, sometimes not returning for a couple days at a time, but always checking in at night. Sabal mostly just sits around and drinks.

He's tried to clean but there's not much to do with Nischit handling most of it and Ajay being so clean anyways. Anything Sabal might have been able to do, caring for Ajay's equipment or cleaning furs maybe, is always already done before Sabal can get to it. He can't really cook and Ajay apparently owns, quite recently, a whole three outfits- two more than Sabal. Instead, he just ends up reading and vaguely drunk the first week or so.

Mohan Ghale’s journal mocks Sabal from the shelf it sits on. Ajay probably doesn't even remember he has it, doesn't care, but Sabal recognises it from the spine alone even among all the other books that have been here longer than Ajay has. Sabal wants to chuck it off the cliff. _Mohan Ghale_ , Sabal can source nearly all of his problems back to him. He tries to ignore it.

Sabal only finally thinks about leaving when the copious amounts of liquor that once occupied Ajay's home suddenly vanish. He doesn't think much of it except that he must have drank it far more than he thought. It seems like a good idea to make a run for supplies even if Nischit probably has that under control, too. Sabal wants to do something around here besides waiting around sloshed for Ajay to return.

“Nischit,” Sabal says and the caretaker sits at attention a little more. He doesn't talk much so Sabal tries not to bother him much. Even now, Sabal isn't fully sure which side of the Golden Path he had taken, if any. He's come to realise a lot of people weren't interested in picking between him and Amita, they just wanted something done. That’s why people took to Ajay so much; he did things and _fast_.

“Sabal,” Nischit replies with a nod.

“I'm going into town, brother. Are there supplies Ajay needs?” he asks. Nischit gives him an uncertain look.

“Yeah?” he agrees. He seems suspicious but Sabal doesn't know about what. Sabal is pretty certain he can make a simple supply run without fucking things up. Surely even in his current condition that's hard to mess up.

“Well, I'm going to get more liquor so I figured I'd pick up supplies while I'm out,” Sabal clarifies. “Can I have the list and the rupees?” Nischit sighs deeply, his questioning look falling into something more usual for him. He hands Sabal a pack and along with it, a scratched out list of necessities and enough rupees to cover it. He gives Sabal another long look.

“You drink too much,” he says. Sabal inherently jolts at such a blandly put statement.

“I'm aware,” he answers shortly. “Thank you, _brother_.” He takes the pack irritably but Nischit doesn't take any offense. Sabal knows he drinks too much, but he also knows that's his own business. Being sober right now is a prospect he doesn't much care for even thinking about. If Ajay says something then he'll deal with it more then but for now, drinking is doing more than a good enough job of stopping Sabal from truly being a complete mess.

The walk down the hill is always a little tedious but Sabal makes it with relative ease. It's a nice walk all things considered, even if Sabal dreads having to wall back _up_ the hill. He heads to the closest town and now a days, people seem to stare less. They still look, of course, but it's not the questioning, concerned stares they had marred him with before.

Being in town really shows how much things are improving. The people that bustle around are healthier looking, happier looking, and the disheveled, dirty state that most people used to just live in has been largely replaced with something new. Golden Path members wear less of the same uniform everyday, unable to find anything better, and instead dress more or less like everyone else spar the yellow headband usually worn somewhere very visible. Most of them are working on building repair with the rest of them standing guard for vicious animals.

Everything has changed so much.

Sabal looks over the list as he looms inside the store. With the roads safe again and people traveling again, there's a great increase of stock now. Some of this stuff he hasn't seen in years, some of it he's _never_ seen. Are they really getting imports already or is this just what people have been working on now that they don't have to fear for their lives constantly? Maybe Sabal should ask Ajay more. He’ll be the first to admit he’s worried about getting too involved again. It can only go badly.

Quite suddenly, Sabal is aware he's being stared at again. He glances at the shopkeeper but she's rather invested in her pen and paper and not much interested in him taking his time restocking supplies. Curiously, he glances at the door to discover not one but several women staring at him from outside. Sabal quickly looks back to the shelf. He hadn’t thought much about Amita perhaps still being a little annoyed he’s still alive until right now. Ajay said she wouldn’t bother him but that doesn’t mean her followers won’t.

Awkwardly, Sabal tries to hurry his shopping along. He turns into another shelf and instead bumps into one of the ladies. Kyra, she is large. Ever since Ajay cleared Shanath, Amita seemed to have gained more than a handful of followers increasingly lethal looking. The Shanath guards Noore employed were always very intimidating and they almost exclusively became loyal to Amita after Noore’s untimely death.

“Sorry,” Sabal murmurs softly. “Excuse me, sister.” He is way too drunk for this.

“Need some help?” she offers. Another woman, fortunately smaller, comes up behind him and reads his list over his shoulder, promptly pinning him in. Sabal awkwardly tries to shuffle around them. He’d like to imagine they aren’t with Amita but the yellow bandanas around their arms claim otherwise.

“I think I have it under control, thank you,” he assures. “I’m not completely useless contrary to popular belief.” He could have lived his entire life without this encounter to be perfectly honestly.

“Don’t worry, we can help,” the other urges.

“Truly, I think I can handle some shopping,” Sabal says again. He doesn’t want to fight anyone and he definitely doesn’t want to get beat up out in the forest on his way home.

“Hey!” the shopkeep shouts at them irritably, finally distracted enough from her writing to take notice. “Leave Sabal alone! Just because he’s the king’s boyfriend doesn’t mean you get to harass my customers! Out with you unless you’re doing work! Free work!” The ladies begrudgingly leave but hover outside the door a little more until she shoos them further away. Ah, Sabal thought this was a malicious thing. It’s weird hearing Ajay referred to as ‘king’, in person more so than on the radio, but he supposes that’s what he is now. Both as someone Pagan Min considered a son, and through some weird means an heir, and as the man who killed Pagan, Ajay is rightfully Kyrat’s new king. Apparently people know they’re a ‘thing’ again, too.

“Sorry about that, sister,” Sabal says. “I didn’t intend to cause trouble.” She scoffs at him loudly, turning her attention back to her pen and paper.

“King’s boyfriend or not, you’re still Sabal,” she says mildly, rapidly tapping her pen. “You cause trouble no matter what.” He supposes he can’t argue with that. Sabal counts out a few rupees to pay her with. It’ll probably be a while before they get Pagan Min’s face off their money, unfortunately. It’s not exactly a priority considering everything else.

“In fact,” the shopkeeper purrs. “Someone should teach you a lesson. Someone like the king, _ooooh_.” Uh, what? Sabal looks up at her but she is now twice as invested in a new sheet of paper.

“Excuse me?” he says, trying to get her attention again and she looks at him curiously like she’d forgotten he was here. She quickly closes her notepad. Sabal isn’t sure he wants to know what that was about. He holds the money out for her pointedly and she quickly takes it from him, counting it out before giving an agreeable nod that it’s enough. Then she quickly shoos him out of her store and opens her notepad again.

Maybe him trying to shop is more trouble than it’s worth. Sabal glances around for the ladies from earlier before hurriedly heading back out of toward before they spot him. He pops open his new bottle of whiskey as he goes. The ‘king’s boyfriend’ isn’t quite what Sabal had in mind in the beginning. It’s not that bad, he guesses. He’s not sure how he feels about people trying to ‘help’ him just because of it, though. Then again, he's not sure about people helping him at all anymore.

Sabal tries to cook. He never thought it was _easy_. It’s exactly why he always left the women to do it; men generally don’t know how. He supposes that’s a vicious circle, though, of not knowing how and not learning. Sabal knows enough about cooking to making raw meat edible and feed himself when necessary but that’s about it. Apparently that isn’t enough to properly figure out how to follow a vague recipe. There’s a lot more timing to this than he thought. These measurements also don't make much sense.

Nischit comes running into the house about halfway through looking alarmed and holding a bucket of water. When he realises nothing is on fire, he stops and looks at Sabal then what Sabal has done. After several long seconds all he says is ‘bad’ and promptly takes it on himself to correct whatever has happened here.

Sabal begrudgingly sits aside with his liquor and a cigarette and fortunately, Ajay doesn’t return home tonight.

\- x -

It feels weird coming back to Banapur again. Sabal had called this place home for a long time even if it wasn’t actually. In the Golden Path, he never had a home. That was one of the many things he gave away to get to where he had been; a stable home, a family, his very name. Even now, he doesn’t regret the things he gave away for a better Kyrat, he just wishes he could have had a more coherent idea about what ‘better’ meant at the time.

Kyrat is better now, largely without his help.

“Ajay!” Amita snaps. Ajay turns to look at her and Sabal makes a small attempt at staying mostly on his other side. He's not going to hide from her but he also doesn't want to get into a physical altercation and he's not fully sure if she would or not. Obviously this was a bad idea but Ajay insisted. He doesn’t think leaving Sabal cooped up in the Ghale residence is a good idea. Perhaps it’s not. “I do _not_ want _him_ here.”

“Amita, it’s fine,” Ajay assures, looking at Sabal a little. Sabal doesn't say anything, just palms his whiskey and waits to be escorted back out of his home town. “We talked about this.”

“We did _not_ talk about you bringing him back here,” Amita sneers back. Sabal looks around absentmindedly, taking in some of the changes Banapur has been through since the last time he had been here. It looks nice, of course, better than it ever has. As he goes to take another drink from his bottle, however, he spots a rather startled looking Bhadra coming into town with another large, topless arena woman- and Hurk. Sabal waves at her smally. She doesn't wave back.

“Sabal isn’t going to do anything, Amita,” Ajay stresses. Amita urgently gestures the woman to takes Bhadra away to which the woman quickly ushers her off somewhere else. Sabal frowns a little but it’s fair. After everything that’s happened, there’s really no reason for him to be here or anywhere near Bhadra and Amita knows it. He drinks some more and Ajay reaches over to take the bottle from him. “Sabal,” he says quietly. “No more right now, please.”

“Ah, of course,” Sabal murmurs. “Sorry, brother.”

“I don’t care what he’s going to _do_ ,” Amita snaps. “I don’t want him here, Ajay.”

“I only want to help, Amita,” Sabal says. “I have fought against you for so long, the least I can do now is offer whatever help I can.”

“ _Help_?” Amita snorts back in sour amusement. “You want to _help_?” She glares at Ajay irritably before looking back to Sabal again, crossing her arms stubbornly and pressing her teeth together.

“He didn’t become a leader of the Golden Path through fluke, Amita,” Ajay assures. “He can still offer a lot of help to us.”

“But he is not a leader anymore,” Amita reminds him sharply. She makes a good point but Sabal supposes they both do. Still, he doesn’t think Ajay understands how much Sabal can’t do anymore. Sabal isn’t even sure he knows how to help without trying to take control or, worse, stepping on Amita’s toes. He’s not exactly confident in his ability to take commands, either. It has been a very long time since he’s been in an underling position to _anyone_. “You want to help, Sabal?” she finally says mildly.

“If you’ll have it, of course,” Sabal agrees with a small nod. Regardless, he's willing to try. If things don't go well or if Sabal feels he can't handle being involved again, he'll just have to talk to Ajay- he'll _make_ himself talk to Ajay. Amita looks over to a little gathering of several older women and Sabal looks in the same direction. He can’t tell much what they’re doing from here.

“Go help them, then,” she says. Ajay gives Amita an unamused look. “He wants to help? That’s what we need help with right now. Unless that’s a _problem_ , Sabal?”

“I can help,” Sabal assures. If that’s what they need, then that’s what he’ll do. Even if it’s not what they need, Sabal can’t exactly blame her for not trusting him with anything more than being watched extensively by seven other people. He hears Ajay sigh minutely as Sabal wanders off to see exactly what it is they are doing.

The ladies go curiously quiet when he approaches and he sits himself in the circle with them, looking around at what they’re doing as they look back at him. They’re sitting around a pile of what seems to be freshly washed but thoroughly ruined clothes and are picking them apart by the seams. Just from first glance, Sabal can tell it’s a lot of old Royal Army gear but there’s other things that have been scrapped together as well. He glances around at them when they don’t say anything and he offers his hands up.

“May I assist you?” he asks. Immediately, the ladies all bustle happily. They quickly give him a very sharp looking little hook needle and show him how they use it to break the clothing down to useful scraps. Sabal gives it a try but he doesn’t feel like he’s too helpful, honestly. He can’t quite get the little seam ripper under the seams every time with his vision the way it is and he ends up stabbing himself with it more often than not. It’s very, _very_ pointy. Nonetheless, he works on diligently.

They go back to their talking, almost exclusively in Nepali with only a few very pointed words here or there in English or Hindi. It’s gossip mostly and while Sabal half listens, he doesn’t know nearly enough to know what’s going on. He smiles a little when they check on him or mention him in passing but otherwise, this takes all his focus. If he hadn't drank as much today, maybe this would be a little easier but he wouldn't count on it.

“We appreciate the help, truly Sabal, but you do not have to,” the lady closest to him assures after watching him for a while. “You seem to be struggling a little.”

“I,” Sabal says. “Am a little bit drunk and I- have never held one of these things before in my life.” He waves the pointy little seam ripper and the ladies laugh quietly at him. “Amita thinks this is punishment, yes? Making me do ‘woman’s work’ but I- I have spoken to Kyra, you know. She-” he hiccups drunkenly. “Oh, excuse me- do you know what she said to me?” They all lean in with interest and Sabal leans in as well. “She said, ‘ _leave me alone, Sabal_ ’.” He laughs a little and it assures the rest that it’s okay to laugh, too. One of them offers him a drink from her flask and Sabal waves his hand at politely.

“Oh no, no,” he assures. “I promised Ajay no more today. Thank you, though.” Sabal sticks one of his fingers in his mouth to dislodge the pricks of blood that have arisen and another lady offers him some tea instead. He accepts it graciously and they all stop for a few minutes to drink and let Sabal bandage several of his fingers. They take the seam ripper away from him and instead put him in charge of pulling loose threads and sorting ready pieces of cloth by color and size. He’s more helpful at this.

Sabal listens a little more, asks a few more questions, but he finds it really is mostly just gossip. Over the years, he’s received more than a fair share of valuable tips from gossip so he’s not going to be the one to discredit it, but this isn’t quite that. Then again, they're not in a war anymore. It's kind of nice to know the most important thing to gossip about are unwed young adults having premarital sex and not who might want to slit Sabal’s throat while he sleeps.

He likes being helpful, he finds.

“Sabal,” Ajay calls to him and Sabal looks in his direction mutely. He gets to his feet as Ajay approaches and Sabal faintly smiles. “I need to go take care of some things and Amita doesn't want you here without me around.”

“Amita doesn't want me here at all,” Sabal assures. “She thinks if people realise I'm still alive and with you, they'll rally against her but people already know this. I'm a mess, brother, no one's going to rally behind me.” Ajay sighs softly.

“We'll talk about this later, okay?” he assures. “I think you've taken this drinking thing a little too far.” Sabal can only nod solemnly. “Right now, it's time to go. Hurk is going to walk you home.”

“I think I can get back to the Ghale homestead on my own from here, Ajay,” Sabal promises. “I'm not helpless, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, Sabal,” Ajay agrees. “But Hurk likes escorting people and I will feel better knowing you're not out by yourself.”

“Very well,” Sabal says, nodding absently. “If it makes you feel better.” He leans in to give Ajay a kiss and Ajay ducks around him discreetly to kiss him on the cheek instead. Sabal is well aware Ajay doesn't like kissing him or even touching him while he's drunk. While Sabal thinks this alone should curb his need to drink so frequently, it doesn't. Right now, any reason not to be intimate with Ajay is a send from the gods themselves. He's worried both that sex has become just a price to pay for whatever happens after and more so, that Ajay feels the same way.

Sabal isn't very good at this ‘talking’ thing.

“Hurk,” Ajay calls and sure enough, the odd, heavy set man approaches them happily. While never having caused trouble for the Golden Path directly, he's caused more than a little trouble for himself that they certainly made no effort to get him out of. Not to mention the many, many misunderstandings between Kyrat’s people knowing a little English and Hurk knowing zero Nepali. There was about a solid couple hours where they were legitimately concerned he was a Royal spy.

“Hey! Sabal!” Hurk greets him. Sabal isn't sure why he's surprised Hurk knows his name but maybe that's just because he never expected to talk to him even a little bit. “My main bro’s main man, how you doin’? A friend of Ajay’s a friend of mine! Put ‘er there.” Ajay looks both amused and like he told Hurk to keep a lid on it knowing that wouldn't happen. Sabal knows Hurk wants a fist bump, he's not that dense, but he's absolutely never going to do that ever. Sabal grabs his fist like a handshake.

A few seconds pass where Sabal can _hear_ Hurk thinking and Ajay is doing his best not to laugh.

“Secret handshake, nice,” Hurk says, pointing at him affirmatively with the other hand. Ajay quickly grabs Hurk’s finger.

“ _Don't point_ ,” he says firmly.

“Right, sorry,” Hurk agrees at once and he makes an awkward, sort of offensive bow. “Come on, then. I'll walk ya home, Sabal.” Sabal looks at Ajay quietly. If he were a different man, there's no way he'd put up with this but for today, he'll deal with it for Ajay.

“I'll see you at home,” Ajay assures.

“Stay safe, brother,” Sabal replies. Hurk leads the way, by virtue of only walking faster, and Sabal follows him. It seems like a long walk home from here.

“So, the king's boyfriend, that's cool, that's cool,” Hurk says, obviously doing his best to make small talk. “I'm like, the king's best friend so we have something in common. Well, _one_ of the king's best friends. Rabi’s cool but he's like the left hand and I'm the right, get it? I do the shooting and he does the talking, kachow!”

King this, king that. Sabal isn't sure how well Ajay is taking to being the ‘king’. He doesn't seem to care one way or another, not that it matters much. He's not Pagan, never will be, so the title holds less meaning than it did before. Sabal is glad Ajay held onto it, though. As good of a job as Amita is doing, he's not sure it would be wise to give that title to anyone else. Ajay has the temperament for it, even if he doesn't think he does, and without him, Amita surely would have gone as power hungry as Sabal would have.

Sabal knew Ajay coming back to Kyrat was a godsend but he had never really grasped how accurate that was. It only seems right that he takes the place, only for show or otherwise, as king. People like him anyways, and far more of them than had ever liked Sabal or Amita. That awareness, that eagerness to do good and be polite, the killer instinct and inherent sense of justice; it makes Ajay a far better king than they could have had otherwise.

It's times like these Sabal does wish he could be more helpful. Amita is handling things, of course, Sabal has no room to complain and truly doesn't want to, but that doesn't mean she isn't still a cultureless heathen. Likewise, Ajay continues to show little to no interest in their traditions or religion and honestly, it's a little saddening. Surely there's still room for that, right? Even if they have to stop and consider the effects of some of their older traditions. Ajay said it himself, change isn't destruction.

Sabal just doesn't want their rich culture to be forgotten about, the good or the bad.

For the time being, it seems like a good idea to focus on one thing at a time. Sabal is also very aware he has some more personal ‘demons’ to attend to first and he's not sure how well praying them away is going to work out. Relying less on Kyra for whimsical rescues is a good place to start. Once upon a time, Sabal liked to think he wasn't a man that ignored boats while waiting for Kyra in the rain but he can see how wrong he was on so many occasions.

“Buddy?” Hurk says. “Hello?” Sabal looks at him questioningly.

“Ah, you were talking to me?” he murmurs. “I was not listening.”

“So you didn't hear the part where I had the _weirdest_ sex dream about me and Ajay getting it on, right?” Hurk asks. Sabal stares at him. “Cool, cool. That's great! Didn't mean to tell ya that, so let's pretend it never happened.”

“I think I can manage from here,” Sabal assures, gesturing to the slope leading home.

“Sounds good, amigo,” Hurk agrees and, again, points at him with both hands this time. He quickly realises his mistake however and awkwardly ‘holsters’ his pistol fingers with a grin.

“My name’s Sabal,” Sabal reminds him.

“Ahhh, I knew you had a sense of humor,” Hurk says in amusement. “Catch ya later, bro. I’ll let Ajay know you made it okay!” Sabal nods absently in agreement as he begins up the half worn away steps. Bhadra has far more patience than Sabal even thought, dealing with Hurk _daily_. So does Ajay, obviously.

At least Sabal has gotten very good at tuning things out.

\- x -

“Ajay?” Sabal murmurs. For what may be the very first time, Ajay looks like a sambar caught in the headlights. He looks at Sabal and Sabal looks back curiously, watching as Ajay empties an entire bottle of liquor out the window and into an already dead looking plant outside. That would definitely explain where all the liquor went before. Sabal had been fairly certain he hadn't drank _that_ much.

“Uh, Sabal,” Ajay replies like he's been caught red handed and isn't sure where to go from here. He makes no effort to stop, of course. “I, uh-”

“You're pouring out my whiskey,” Sabal says. Ajay grimaces a little. “You know, brother, if you wanted me to drink less you could have said so before pouring away so many rupees.”

“It's- really not about the rupees, Sabal,” Ajay assures. He sighs. “Listen, I didn't want to say anything because I know sometimes being drunk, or high in my case, is better than the alternative.”

“It's alright,” Sabal assures. “I am aware I have to deal with my ‘feelings’ sooner or later. I just preferred the later option.”

“Will you let me help you?” Ajay asks, almost tentatively. Sabal nods.

“Of course, brother,” he murmurs. “If you'd like, I won't refuse your help.” He really does want to try, at least. It's surprisingly difficult to admit anything to anyone, _especially_ Ajay. He's never viewed feelings as weakness but he supposes, he usually meant different feelings than whatever ungodly concoction has boiled under his skin since Jalendu and perhaps even before then. His anger, his compassion, his stubbornness; it makes him strong.

This just makes him weak.

“I guess we can start with _why_ you feel like you need to drink so much?” Ajay says. He doesn't seem to be all that used to this either which makes Sabal feel a little better.

“There's many reasons,” he admits. “Predominately at my mind? You don't like being ‘intimate’ when I'm drunk.” Ajay sighs, tossing the empty bottle aside without really thinking about it before leaning against the counter. Sabal isn't sure what to do with most of himself but he prefers standing and naturally crosses his arms.

“I just don't want to take advantage of you, Sabal,” Ajay assures. “Being in a gay relationship is new to you and I don't want to end up doing something you wouldn't agree with sober.”

“No, brother,” Sabal says. “I wasn't blaming you. That was my _reason_. Up until now, being intimate has been- a preface to trying to get something I want from you.” Ajay looks him over, mouth pressed together thoughtfully and vaguely worried looking.

“Oh,” he murmurs finally. “Okay, that's- it's good you told me that, Sabal. If you don't want to-”

“I do,” Sabal assures at once. “But I don't want you to think it's only because I want something from you. And I don't want to think that, either.”

“I think we can work on that,” Ajay says. “You were drinking before ‘this’, though.”

“Guilt?” Sabal offers up. “For hurting you, for failing to save Jalendu, and Kyrat itself.” Again, Ajay just sort of thinks for a while. “And I suppose drinking helped me stop feeling guilty about coming to terms with liking men, too. Additionally, it made it easier for me to accept that I- I'm not the leader of the Golden Path anymore and most of my ideals were based on things I'd never even bothered questioning. I blindly followed in the footsteps of a man I barely knew for reasons I was never allowed to admit to myself let alone anyone else.”

“What happened to Jalendu isn't a ‘failing’ on your part,” Ajay promises. “Like I said, everything I did, it wasn't because of you or Amita. That temple was a beacon of the religious obedience that took my mother's life away before she even _had_ one. It was directly tied to the Tarun Matara and I couldn't just- I couldn't let you or anyone else make another one.”

“Even now, you speak of our traditions but you don't know anything about them, Ajay,” Sabal urges. “Did Ishwari tell you anything about who she was or what she did for Kyrat?”

“No,” Ajay says softly after a brief pause.

“Do you _know_ what the Tarun Matara does?” Sabal asks.

“Vaguely,” Ajay murmurs.

“Then how can you be sure enough that it was bad that you found it reasonable to destroy a centuries old temple?” he insists. Ajay doesn't say anything. “And therein lies the blame. I should have taken the time to explain it better, to at least help you understand and barring that? Not to make you lash out in anger at me through Jalendu.”

“It's not your fault I never made the time to listen either, Sabal,” Ajay says. “Religion really isn't- my thing. Me not caring about the details or, I don't know, not understand its importance isn't a flaw in you.”

“I had every opportunity to explain it to you and I didn't,” Sabal says. “I thought you wouldn't understand so I didn't bother.” Ajay sighs but he nods, a solemn agreement that he knows he's not going to change Sabal’s mind.

“Is there something you can do for now to make you want to drink less?” Ajay asks. “Until you can come to terms with how you feel, I guess. You could come out with me? Or I can talk to Amita again, perhaps find something else for you to do.”

“I'd only hold you back, brother,” Sabal assures. He's still a soldier, still a very skilled combatant, but he's not Ajay. “Or get hurt. Amita- I will need to figure myself out before I can convince her I've changed. I think- I think I need to pray.”

“If you think that's what will help, okay,” Ajay murmurs.

“I do,” Sabal says. “I think a pilgrimage and some proper worship is something I've needed for a long time and without all the weight on my back, I think I can finally take it.”

“I'm assuming you don't want me to go with you,” Ajay murmurs, frowning faintly.

“You're not exactly the religious type, Ajay,” Sabal reminds him, smiling a little. Ajay scoffs a laugh. “I'll have my radio and I know for a fact if I need you, you can ‘hoof’ it across Kyrat in a day.”

“Less than a day if it's important,” Ajay assures. “Just- talk to me if you need to. You don't have to deal with this alone.”

“Neither do you,” Sabal says. “I know I haven't been an avid listener in the past but I want to be there for you, as well.”

“I have other friends, Sabal,” Ajay says. Alright, he makes a point if not a mean one. “I promise, I'll talk to you if I need to but neither of our issues are more important than the others, okay? It'll be nice to see you back to normal first.”

“That I can agree to,” Sabal murmurs. He's not sure there is a going ‘back’ or even a ‘normal’ but he needs more than this for both his and Ajay’s sake. If things keep going the way they're going, Sabal is going to end up something he never wants to see. “I'll gather my supplies and plan a route after I, ugh, after I sleep off this hangover.”

“I'm going to stick close by until you leave, then,” Ajay says as he approaches him and gently takes a hold of his waist. Sabal nods and Ajay tenderly kisses him on the mouth. Perhaps Sabal wants to be this tender one day. He's not sure if that's an option for him. “I know it's going to be hard for you to accept this with how you were raised but it really is okay to want to love and have sex with other men, Sabal. There's nothing inherently wrong or shameful about being attracted to other men even if they aren't.”

“I know,” Sabal says softly. It's easier to accept that it's okay for other people than it is for himself. “I'm working on that, too. Thank you, Ajay.”

“I love you,” Ajay says and kisses him again and it makes Sabal tighten his fingers in his shirt.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs. He really, really does.


	19. Right Ahead

This is definitely something Sabal needed. Being able to walk through his country again and really see it is something he's not sure he's _ever_ had the chance to do. He knows the south like the back of his hand and the north almost as well but he's never honestly been able to do anything like this. All his life he's trained to get to where he was, never having the time to really stop for a moment, and once he was where he wanted to be, he was always looking over his shoulder for the next threat; external or otherwise.

So Sabal walks. Usually he's alone but sometimes he finds others making similar journeys and they'll walk and talk together for a while. The shrines almost always have at least one person around, an idea that makes Sabal glad that not all has been lost. Seeing Sabal praying quietly is usually more than enough to encourage passers-bys to join him if not briefly before they continue along.

He finds places to sleep as he needs them, usually in makeshift camps or communal houses but people offer him a place for the night here and there. It's easier to take them up on it when Sabal knows there's something he can do to repay them.

The temples are a little more eventful. Sabal meets some of the people who had followed him immensely, the very same who wished to see their land cleansed with blood. It's disorienting now, finding out how people viewed him. It's even more so finding how they see him now. The more vicious, fanatic followers truly do see him as a failure for what's happened and more so, are typically highly upset by the relationship he has with Ajay.

Sabal finds those thinly veiled lies and quiet violence. He finds the people who offer to ‘help’ him even if the path to purity, purity from liking other men, is death. He finds the people who think his downfall was not his own but because Ajay had led him astray with ‘unnatural’ desires. Sabal supposes this has always been here but it was quieter when he wasn't paying attention, when he felt he didn't have to. Or perhaps it wasn't. There was a reason he felt he could never be honest with himself.

It never felt like fear but now? Sabal can't help but wonder what happens to the people with weaker wills than him? Weaker bodies? If he weren't a well known soldier, if they weren't completely certain he could defend himself wholeheartedly, would they try to forcibly purify him? Would they think death would be better? Are there men out there who fully believe they can bleed themselves ‘pure’ thanks to these ‘priests’?

Priests who, by all means, have more often than not committed heinous crimes towards their Tarun Matara. She is not a _vessel_ to have their sons. She is not some sort of sexual icon for their thoughts. She does not exist for the sake of their ‘needs’. She is a _goddess_ and she oversees the righteous and just. This Sabal knows he had never heard before because they would never dare speak of it in his range before. Until Ajay, even _after_ Ajay, they saw Bhadra as Sabal’s possession and obviously saw speaking of her in such a way to him as disrespectful.

Sabal never has, never could, _own_ the Tarun Matara. Guided her, perhaps more forcibly than he would have liked in retrospect, but never own.

Some of these things Sabal knows he has bought into himself in the past. The need to ‘cleanse’ with blood, the belief that anything they don't agree with is dirty or impure, even the very idea that to truly become what Kyrat needed, he needed the Tarun Matara at his side regardless of her age- or feelings. It's difficult to separate the good from the bad now and it takes Sabal a long time to understand why not everything he was lead to believe in was for the worst.

He calls Ajay.

Sure enough, it's not even a day before Ajay shows up with some Golden Path members and ‘arrest’ what Sabal calls a ‘wayward’ priest. He's not sure what happens next, he's never had to arrest anyone during the war and he doesn't think it's the same as taking prisoners of war. It's not up to him anyways.

Sabal talks to Ajay a little afterwards, thanks him for coming and dealing with the issue at hand. They talk and Ajay laughs- honestly laughs in a way Sabal had never really been good at getting him to do before. He finds himself laughing, even, a strange thought when he doesn't rightly know the last time he did. When he mentions it to Ajay, Ajay seems a little perplexed initially. He finally admits that before he supposes he just saw Sabal as serious all the time and that laughing around him ‘wasn't allowed’. They laugh a little more.

More temples, more shrines, more priests. Not all of them are bad, of course, and Sabal is glad to find not everything he's believed in is tainted horribly. There are those who have been lead to believe men shouldn't be together but when Sabal points out that there's not actually anything that says that, they honestly seem surprised. Others don't have a problem with it in the first place. He finds those that didn't really care about Jalendu and the Tarun Matara but still are fully devoted to Kyra as well as those who simply find it very weird that she's just fourteen.

Sabal finds his perspective changes a lot and similarly, so has many other's. Before, there were few people who would dare speak to him about such things let alone question his reasoning. Of course, Sabal knows he wouldn't have taken it from anyone except the son of Mohan so they weren't all together wrong to keep it to themselves. He finds a lot more obvious lies, too. He calls Ajay a few more times over his journey.

Kyra has never changed, Sabal just never listened right.

\- x -

“I'm not banning religion,” Ajay says mildly.

“This is just going to happen again,” Amita demands. “It always does.” Sabal pauses outside just to listen for a moment. He doesn't want to fully eavesdrop but it's hard when Amita has to be so loud. She and Ajay don't really argue, Ajay doesn't yell like Sabal can, but even then Amita feels like she has to be loud to be heard. Sabal is definitely a source of this feeling.

“And banning religion will just make it worse,” Ajay assures. They must be discussing some of the priests Sabal had called to be dealt with. He enters the building they've turned into their business office and immediately, Amita gives him a nasty look. It's not something he expects to go away any time soon.

“Sabal,” she says coldly. “What are you doing here?”

“I've just come to see Ajay,” Sabal answers simply. It's the truth, after all. He doesn't like to be cooped up at home so it's nice to meet Ajay wherever he's staying now and then and do errands along the way. “I do hope you're not _actually_ try to ban religion, sister.” Amita waves a dismissive hand at him.

“I don't answer to you,” she scoffs. Sabal looks at Ajay who is more focused on reading what looks like stacks and stacks of paper. He's having fun, obviously.

“We're not banning religion,” he repeats. “People are allowed to worship whatever they want. Just because a couple guys are shitty doesn't mean we can take that away from everyone. Besides, as Pagan proved, banning it isn't going to stop them. If anything, it'll just make us seem like their enemy.”

“Ajay is right,” Sabal says. “Not everyone follows these ‘wayward’ priests but if you try to forcibly silence them, they will congregate behind ideals they don't believe in.”

“So we just let them go and what? Leave them to their serial killings?” Amita asks. “I don't think so.”

“We're definitely not letting them go,” Ajay assures. “But people are going to be wary if we just try to arrest everyone we don't agree with.”

“If I may,” Sabal offers.

“You may _not_ ,” Amita snaps back immediately. Ajay, however, gestures for him to continue with a distracted hand.

“I could help,” Sabal says. Amita laughs, harsh and mean.

“Absolutely not,” she says. “Absolutely not, Ajay. Allowing Sabal to ‘help’ these religious _morons_ is asking for trouble. After everything he’s done, putting him at the front of the _cult_ that lifted him to power in the first place will undo all the work we’ve done.” Sabal sneers quietly but, he thinks regrettably, her worry is well founded. Doing something like that, though, would hurt Ajay and not only could Sabal not dare do that again, but Ajay would, without question, end him where he stood.

Ajay briefly looks up from his paperwork at him, noncommittal and blank, before going back to work. He doesn’t immediately say anything but eventually, he sighs and crosses his arms as he sits back in his chair, work briefly forgotten. His eyes cross from Sabal to Amita and back again as he taps his fingers against his arm.

“They will listen to me,” Sabal encourages. “They will understand that these priests, that I _had_ taken away, did not have Kyra’s ways in mind if I explain it to them.”

“And they will listen to you if you say Ajay betrayed you and you’re the rightful ruler of Kyrat?” Amita says scathingly. “And they will listen if you encourage them to kidnap Bhadra for your ritualistic _sacrifice_.” Anger wells up in Sabal quicker than he can quell it.

“Even now! Even after you have wet your tongue with the taste of destruction, you know _nothing_ about our culture!” he bites at her. “You spit in Kyra’s eye every chance you get! I _knew_ felling Jalendu was not going to satisfy you! If not for Ajay, what more wanton destruction would you have brought?”

“If not for destroying Jalendu, you would have stopped at _nothing_ to make sure Bhadra was crowned for your ill fated desires! You gave me no choice! These _worshippers_ give us no choice! All they do is try to back peddle progress and when they can’t, they kill!” Amita snarls back at him.

“Enough,” Ajay says firmly. “Both of you. I’ve heard enough.” They fall quiet and the room still, exchanging aggravated stares that never really change. They are far too set in their ways now to be anything other than this. Ajay rubs his mouth thoughtfully, not particularly looking at either of them but rather staring off into some place far off. He sighs deeply again.

“Sabal,” he says. “I- don’t know if I trust you with this.” It hurts to hear but Sabal knows it is not from a desire to _hurt_ , not like Amita’s is. There’s no reason he should trust Sabal with anything anymore, especially something like this. “You don’t handle power well and if this goes poorly, we’ll just be starting another war.” No, that’s not it. Ajay would never let it get that far. Sabal has a sickening thought of Ajay going out into Kyrat and cleansing it in his own way; in blood and fire and righteousness- all because of Sabal.

“But,” Ajay goes on with a sigh. “It’s probably our safest bet, too. Neither Amita or I have a good standing with the religious following of Kyrat and at this point, anything that can be seen as aggression will be taken poorly. If Sabal can convince them that we’re not their enemy and that we want to help them, and we _do_ , it would be a huge step forward to uniting the country.”

“This is a huge risk for a payoff that is hardly worth it,” Amita scoffs.

“Uniting Kyrat is a priority, Amita,” Ajay reminds her. She frowns a little. “The first step to change is understanding and showing them that we’re willing to do that will go a long way.” Sabal, wisely, keeps his tongue out of this. He doesn’t want to argue with Amita, he honestly doesn’t, and he especially doesn’t want to set her off anymore than he already has. Unsurprisingly, his silence helps. She sighs.

“Yes,” she agrees quietly. “Yes, you’re right. I guess at this point, we might as well take the risk. Better to, I don’t know, try and fail than not try at all.”

“Thank you, sister,” Sabal says. “Amita. Truly you have made a difference to Kyrat and I do not aim to take that away from you. I want to help.” The look she gives him is riddled in disbelief but she suspends it vocally, turning to instead give Ajay an unsure one.

“I’ll talk to Rabi,” Ajay comments off handedly as he goes back to his paperwork again. “I’ll see if I can gather some people to travel with you. Nugah and Dexa will probably be glad to see you’re back-”

“Oh, of course, allow the havildar that followed him to hell to aid him now,” Amita says sarcastically.

“You’re on a tight leash, Sabal, you know this,” Ajay murmurs. Sabal nods quietly. “Daily check ins. Thorough reports. Major decisions go through me.” Everything Sabal expected, honestly. This is a huge risk, Amita is right, and Ajay is putting a lot of trust and faith in him to not screw it up. The worst thing he’s up against in his own arrogant pride and honestly, Sabal isn’t even sure he has that anymore- at least not to the extent he once did. He’s been broken and raw and torn to pieces and slowly but surely, he is rebuilding himself.

Slowly but surely, he is learning to be a person of his own for the first time.

“Of course, brother,” Sabal agrees. Ajay looks up a little just to smile at him before returning to his work. Amita doesn’t look particularly please but, all the same, she makes no comment about it and for now, begrudgingly accepts that Sabal might actually be here to help.

“I brought lunch,” Sabal mentions off handedly. Ajay pauses.

“Did you make it?” he asks, his tone intentionally unreadable.

“If I say ‘yes’, you will not eat it, will you?” Sabal replies. Ajay doesn’t say anything. Amita laughs.

“Cooking, Sabal? A _woman’s_ work. You really have changed.”

\- x -

Kyrat is a work in progress.

So is Sabal, though.

In an ironic turn of events, he finds himself, once more, the leader of the Golden Path. They’re not soldiers anymore, though, they aren’t the back bone holding Kyrat together by a knotted, frayed string. They are, in a poetic sense, Kyrat’s blood. They help. They help rebuild, they help mine, and escort and hunt and farm and they travel across Kyrat under Sabal’s watchful eye to do what needs to be done.

With Kyrat settling back down into peace, it’s easy. Sabal is constantly busy, constantly working, but it’s the good kind of busy, the good kind of working, that leaves him feeling satisfied and having done all that he can at the end of the day. He sleeps well. Most people do, nowadays. Most important of his work is ensuring that resources make it to where they need to go, meaning buildings get built and stores get stocked and water distributed.

Second most important is making sure the feral animals that still linger in the wilderness both remain away from the people and also don’t completely die off in the meantime. With their water sources gradually being cleaned, the animals are a little less hostile and a little more frequent but they’re still mean and wild. Trying to coral angry, large creatures away from towns and into closer quarters to mate is certainly a dangerous but well rewarded task. Keeping their animal population at a steady level is vital to exporting ‘exotic’ skins which, surprisingly to Sabal, has quite the market.

But Amita handles that. She, by far, handles most of the more financial aspects of Kyrat; Kyrat’s mind. Because of her, they have some sort of stability again. Even with as little as they can produce and put out, money comes in and with that money, they build bigger and better than they ever have before. Houses and stores, schools and clinics, no longer half put together wooden structures and caves held up with posts if at all but real, livable spaces.

It is with the same money that more and more of their farmland is viable again, that more of their water is clean again. Sabal doesn’t see her often, she is often tangles in negotiations and politic discussions now a days, but they see a little more eye to eye with each passing day. Usually it’s still at full volume, but he’s not sure they’ll ever get over that. Her girlfriend, which Sabal wasn’t even aware she was gay but it explains so much, is less than amused by him on a good day but all the same, they work together well. Etka, a large arena woman, spends her time between making sure Amita’s plans are working as intended and watching over Bhadra like a very large, very protective eagle.

They’re so close to truly being a great country and without Amita, Sabal doesn’t think it ever would have happened, that they ever would have come this close. Occasionally, they even manage to stand one another’s company for more than a few minutes. Nowadays, their relationship is based almost exclusively on compromising. It’s- nice, dare Sabal say.

The king, of course, Ajay Ghale the very heart of Kyrat does the same thing he’s always done, keeping them safe from, well, not a lot anymore fortunately. Sabal never thought he’d see an actual police force at work in Kyrat but that’s what Ajay has done. For the most part, it’s going around solving people’s minute problems with one another; stolen items, ‘tainted’ daughters, crossed boundaries, and drunken fights. He and his team, almost exclusively hand picked, help keep the peace.

Of course, they’re also ready to go back to war on a dime if any more ‘eccentric’ warlords try to pick up where Pagan Min left off but Ajay has made a name for himself and it is gentle and kind and covered in the blood of those who took that for weakness. That being said, he has his hands busy with some less ‘friend disputes’, too. Dealing with serial killers, rogue Royal Army men, and extremist Pagan Min supporters has provided more than enough to do on a good day and too much on the others.

People feel safe with Ajay and his force around, a comfort that they’re so uniquely familiar with. During the war Ajay dispensed the same sort of justice, admittedly much more brutal and mean, and now he offers the same relief in issues that, honestly, Sabal thinks he prefers. Ajay doesn’t want to kill people, never has, and it’s rare that he has to anymore. After so much bloodshed, people are _grateful_ to solve their problems as easily and nonviolent as possible.

As much as Amita, and even Ajay to a degree, may disagree, Sabal knows a large part of Kyrat’s good health comes from Bhadra. She is happy and she is growing well, protected by the weird family that has built themselves around her now. With a proper school for her to attend, she learns so much better than Sabal had even considered. This, of course, is only a precursor. She learns from Amita, finances and politics and growth, and from Sabal, charisma and strength and compassion, and Ajay- technique.

Bhadra is an embodiment of their land, she is Kyrat’s very soul itself, and as she flourishes, so does their country.

One day, Sabal knows, Kyrat will be left to her to lead not as the Tarun Matara but as an entity, complete and infallible, of her own.

But not today.


	20. Prologue

“Sabal,” Ajay says tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “We talked about this.” An argument, four years old, ten years in the making.

“Yes,” Sabal agrees. “And you said you’d go.”

“I said I’d think about it,” Ajay replies pointedly. “And I did and there’s just not time.”

“There _is_ ,” Sabal assures. “It’s four days. Kyrat isn’t going to fall apart because you leave for _four_ days. You do this every year.”

“I do not,” Ajay murmurs stubbornly, frowning as he watches Sabal shoving more stuff into a suitcase.

“Last year you decided last minute you didn’t want to visit Italy after all,” Sabal reminds him. “And you had fun anyways. The year before that, it was Brazil. Before that, Europe. You _deserve_ a vacation, short as it is. We _both_ do.”

“Does it have to be _America_ , though?” Ajay asks.

“You promised,” Sabal insists. “What is wrong with America?” Ajay laughs sarcastically.

“I won’t answer that,” he says. “What about Mexico, at least. Or India? It’s right next door.”

“I want to see where you lived,” Sabal urges.

“It’s probably torn down by now, Sabal,” Ajay answers.

“Where you grew up,” Sabal says.

“Ghetto,” Ajay assures.

“Your friends,” Sabal insists.

“Dead or in jail or dead in jail,” Ajay replies. Sabal gives him a mild look but returns to packing.

“Kyrat will be fine, Ajay,” he says again. “Sarang has everything under control with the police, Nischit can handle the Golden Path for a couple days, Amita and Etka aren’t going anywhere, Bhadra is perfectly capable of handling what little tasks you left to her. We’re going. It’s our anniversary.”

“I know,” Ajay sighs loudly, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. “It’s not that.”

“What _is_ it?” Sabal asks but he knows well what it actually is. Ajay doesn’t like leaving Kyrat. Every year they take a short, brief trip out of country and every year Ajay is worried he’ll come back to find it in shambles again. He knows, realistically, that it would take a lot more than a couple days to reduce the decade of work they’ve done but irrational is irrational.

All the same, their yearly trips do him a lot of good and it’s a much needed break they can both use. Amita and Etka take theirs in the other half of the year, leaving Sabal and Ajay to handle things for a few measly days and Ajay knows from experience, they’re hardly notice they’re even gone.

“America isn’t going to be as fun as you think,” Ajay tries to persuade.

“Ajay,” Sabal says, patting his head softly. “You had to bring this up eight hours before we’re supposed to leave?” Ajay laughs.

“Or,” he replies in an intentionally low tone, reaching out to grab Sabal’s ass. “We could cancel the trip all together and I could spend the next four days showing you exactly how well I can-”

“Uh,” Sarang says awkwardly. “Am I interrupting something.” Ajay yanks his hand away so fast, Sabal might as well have been on fire. He acts like they haven’t been married five years and counting.

“No,” Sabal assures before turning more pointedly to Ajay. “And also no. You have to go, Ajay. Partially because you _did_ promise and partially because if you don’t, Amita will probably kill us both. Right, Sarang?”

“I’m just here to tell you that Amita says you have to go,” Sarang says, intentionally not trying to get into an argument between the two of them. He’s more or less learned his lesson about that. Ajay groans softly. “Her exact words were ‘if Ajay doesn’t get on that plane, I’m selling your, his, and Sabal’s hides on the black market’.” Sabal gestures to prove his point.

“Fine,” Ajay finally agrees reluctantly. “But we’re not going anywhere near where I grew up, okay?”

“Deal,” Sabal assures.

“Here, some final preparation before you go, Ajay,” Sarang says, handing Ajay some papers. Ajay sits up a little to browse through some of them and, as per usual, Sabal finishes packing. Considering how Ajay always tries to wriggle his way out of going at the last minute, Sabal has become quite good at packing- and having this argument.

“Oh, and a gift,” Sarang adds on, rummaging through the papers in Ajay’s hands to find the right one and bringing it to the top. Sabal peers over curiously before just making his way to look over Ajay’s shoulder. “Amita got them printed out.”

Early last year they finally got a picture painted for the palace. It was nothing short of what one would expect a picture in a palace to be, Ajay standing properly and squared with Bhadra sat in front of him, Sabal and Amita to either side just a little shorter, looking as intimidating and proper as ever. None of them could possibly stand still long enough to be painted, of course, so they sent a photo off to be painted instead like normal people.

And immediately after, Ajay insisted on another with everyone. The picture isn’t near big enough to really fit them all, everyone squeezed together haphazardly, grinning and smiling in their fancy clothes. Hurk, hoisting Bhadra up on his shoulders, Etka lifting a very startled but pleased looking Amita, Ajay wrapped snug around Sabal’s waist with his head in his shoulder, Ajay’s strange druggie neighbors and their stranger monkey with a less than pleased looking Nischit between them, Sarang and Rabi Ray Rana posed dramatically in front, Chiffon pleasantly dragged in the middle of everyone.

Everyone looks happy. Everyone looks _healthy_.

Sabal takes a smaller one, digging his wallet out of his pocket and gladly fitting the picture into the slot beside the small cutting from their wedding. Ajay looks good in red; they both do. He watches as Ajay does the same, taking one of the photos and flipping his wallet open. For a moment, he just smiles, glancing between the similar photo of their wedding and the old one of his mother. Carefully, he slips it in in front of Ishawari’s photo and snaps his wallet closed before smiling at Sabal.

“Okay,” he says in defeat. “I _guess_ I can help you finish packing.”

“Skinning will not be necessary this year, thanks Sarang,” Sabal assures. “Maybe next year.”

“I _don’t_ do this every year,” Ajay insist. Sarang hurriedly slips out again.

“You absolutely do,” Sabal promises.

“Whatever,” Ajay scoffs. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, brother. So, so much.”


End file.
